I Love You Revised
by Romancelover1321
Summary: Have you ever wanted something you couldn't have? Kaiba never really wanted a relationship but when he meets a peculiar girl at a Christmas party, she slowly turns his world round. This is the revised version of my second chapter story, I Love You.
1. Chapter 1

**Check profile for my disclaimer. **

**Chapter 1**

_Kaiba _

From my resting place on the wall, I examined the lavish room before my eyes. Beautiful marble floors were illuminated by the crystal rays from hanging chandeliers and golden walls were decorated with pearl borders. Diamond rays of light bathed the room in a radiant shimmering atmosphere, adding a quiet elegance to the ornate ballroom. Hung on the walls were paintings, ranging from color pallets of winter grays to spring blues, which softened the gleaming brightness. All in effort to welcome the arriving guests into a realm of sophisticated splendor.

My gaze then fell onto the regal white pillars which silently supported the vaulted Renaissance styled domed ceiling. The towering columns held a resemblance to those located at the White House, significant and prideful as if they were supporting the weight of the world. Yet the guests overlooked their strength as they gushed about the "delicacy" of thin silver swirls which decorated the pillars.

Mistletoes were scattered around the room, wherever they could reach with their green tentacles, however most were concentrated in strategic places such as dark corners for couples who were feeling like returning to their teenage years. It didn't really have a great significance since most of the time the invited guests would _share_ their affection for their loved one _openly_.

Red bows and multicolored lights were wrapped around a large emerald pine tree as it stood alone in the center of the dance floor. Couples waltzed around the tree in perfect sync with the soft, Christmas music that echoed hauntingly throughout the room. For couples who chosen not to dance, they lingered around the refreshment table, covered with gourmet French cuisine, or sat at one of the lavishly decorated tables sipping delicately at their wine as they ate their meal.

Every year I received an invitation to this waste of time they called a Christmas business "party". The only reason I even thought of attending this "party" was because my business partner had forced me to attend e_very single damn year_.

Over the years, I wondered how this man, whom was still several promotions behind me, managed to find a way to force _me _(his boss) to come to this party _every single damn year_.

When I could push back the emotions of disgust, I had assumed it was because of our age difference. We were at least a decade apart, and he had been working at the company for many years, yet he didn't even blink an eyelash at my sudden ascension to CEO. So I partly believed he did it just to prove that his older age gave him some power over the otherwise more powerful me, who was gaining more with every passing second.

However the truth was he was sneaking into my office, and with the use of a duplicate key, he had stolen all my files on my latest projects. Then he would hide the files from me and threaten not to return them unless I promised to go to this "party". The day he returned from his vacation, long after I attend the "party", he would finally return the files.

For the rest of the day, he would pester me with lectures on how this was a good business endeavor before he began questioning to see if I had met an "interesting" woman. This was always followed after by the standard question, how sick was Mokuba afterwards?

By mid afternoon, he would start blathering on how the party would help improve my nonexistent social skills, accompanied by his opinion of my cold attitude. In these speeches, he would often repeat that I was anti-social, asexual or gay, egotistical, cold, cruel man and that it would benefit my being to have a few close friends and possibly a girlfriend. On the condition, he would always say if a woman would even bother to spare me a glance.

Honestly, I could have spent my time on more productive things, for example resting in my comfortably large mansion finding ways to improve my ever-growing company. There was absolutely nothing to feel excited about at this party or any party for that matter. All these types of parties tended to be similar: predictable with attention demanding men and women and a _complete_ waste of my time.

Even the people never changed. I had to deal with the same rich CEO's who were accompanied by their less than classy girlfriends or wives (who in the end would probably take all their money and leave them for the next "big thing") as they tried to convince me to buy this product or to merge with this company. Meanwhile, their wives, girlfriends or whatever they were, tried to flatter me. Sometimes, they would try to win me over with words while some laid their perfectly manicured hands on my shoulder or arms. Occasionally, I would receive a woman who would flutter her eyelashes in what _she_ thought was a testosterone inducing glance but really seemed as if she had nerve damage in her eyelids. Sometimes, I get the rare woman who would latch onto my arm and press her chest into me as if I was a man who would lose all thought process at just the mere sight of flesh.

And in all general terms they all held the same conversations with me, usually starting with something to the effect of this:

"Oh, your suit is _so_ lovely tonight Mr. Kaiba. Where did you get it?"

Or, "Mr. Kaiba I heard of your new game. My little brother (some cases son) absolutely loves it. When is your next game coming out?"

As you can tell, none of those statements were conversation inducers and by the end left me with not only a pounding migraine but the urge to scrub my skin raw.

Then there was the fact that I had to deal with my brother's annual stomachaches because of his immature childish brain told him to pack every sweet that looked appetizing onto his small plate.

So why was I here? My business partner had died a year ago in a nasty car crash, eliminating all blackmail that forced me to come to this "party". Some people had assumed I was so heartless that I felt no feelings of sadness and sympathy when he died, but I would be lying if I were to say I was not relieved at freedom from blackmail.

Despite what people may think, I had held my business partner in a high regard. He was a hard worker and he had the strongest sense of morals I had ever seen. It wasn't surprising to hear him complain about famous celebrities and their attention seeking actions, that was when he wasn't complaining about me.

What thoroughly racked my brain was how he was able to tolerate with my indifference for so many years. He often found humor in my sarcastic comments that others would often find… _offending_. Unlike most people, he was not afraid of me and didn't really care about the amount of money I had or the cars I drove or the house I lived in.

Even _dead_ the man sent my thoughts spiraling out of control. Before my mind began to wander, I focused my attention on the moving mass of black unruly hair as it maneuvered through the crowd. When he collided into people, I watched his head rise up and down in apology before he dashed off once more.

My business partner was like a second father to Mokuba. One of his claims was if I didn't stop working so hard that he would take Mokuba away. I knew that he cared for Mokuba like the son he could never have and his wife adored him. During the times she would watch him for me, she would always greet him with an embracing hug and a kiss on the forehead, practically drowning him with affection. I had always tried to pay her but she would always halt me at the opening of my wallet. As hard as it was to admit, I had owed the deceased man. For a good ten years, I had occupied his time and money and used his wife as a babysitting service. I suppose the least I could do was honor his one selfish wish.

But after my long philosophical pondering, I had come with the reason on why I had attended this accursed party. Mokuba. For weeks, he begged me to come to this wretched "party", slowly everyday stretching and stretching my nerves to their limits. I at one point had tried to convince him otherwise when I saw that rejection didn't work. I told him that we could go to the local bakery but he vehemently held his opinion and claimed it was not the "same".

"Mokuba, I don't need you getting sick _again_." I warned as he came walking past from his "visit" at the desert table. I could already see his plate was filled the brink, sweets covering as much surface area of the plate as possible.

"I won't, big brother." He replied cheerfully, his eyes were shining innocently in the chandelier's rays. I glared at him once more before I directed my attention to the room.

"Do you remember what happened last time?" I asked, my icy blue orbs moving to the corner of my eyes to settle on the little black haired devil. Mokuba just gazed at me, the wheels spinning behind his eyes. In the next minute, the pile had become taller.

Resisting the urge to show my agitation, I let my eyes roam around the room, finding that the bright decorations were starting to cause color spots in my vision. In attempt to escape this luxurious hell, I let my eyelids fall, comforted by the darkness my eyelids provided.

Everything about this place was agitating. From the golden jovial decorations, to the expensive food, to the frivolous wine and especially the ignorant people, I was beginning to feel the sting of regret.

My eyes were still closed when the crowd gasped in perfect unison. I really shouldn't have cared what awed the crowd of those greedy rich people but I went against my better judgment and opened my eyes. That's when I saw _her_.

She was walking down the stairs as graceful as a ballet dancer. From my observation, most of the men in the room closed their open jaws, in order to avoid physical punishment from their partner, and most women were sending the mysterious woman envious glares. Even I found I had to use an unusual amount of self-control to look away from the enchanting beauty.

She was wearing a strapless royal blue dress that stopped just above her knees and then it fluttered out to create a small train. Her lustrous long white tresses were sculptured into a neat bun. My fingers twitched at my side as I suppressed the fantasy of my hands ripping her hair out of the neat structure so my fingers could glide through the pearl locks. She wore light make up: clear lip-gloss with a soft white glittery eye shadow and just enough blush that it made her seem as if she was a glowing goddess.

As she glided down the staircase, her steps were soft and only made the slightest noise. Immediately as she placed her feet on the floor, she was surrounded by a crowd of men. Ignoring them, her eyes roamed the room, her gaze pausing when her sight fell upon me. The men were not as oblivious as I had believed them to be because at the change of her focus they immediately turned to see what had caught the beautiful woman's attention. When they had sighted me, all their eyes narrowed with detest as if that would frighten me away.

Noting the glares, she gave me an apologetic smile. I kept my emotionless facade and turned my eyes toward my little brother, who was filling his face with sweets. In her almost inhumane grace, she navigated her way out of the crowd and glided toward me. Watching her, she seemed so irresistible, so tempting, that I took a step backwards to put some distance between us.

What was I doing acting like a coward? Nobody could faze me, including this beautiful angelic- I stopped my thought process at that moment, disgusted by my love sick thoughts. How could she affect me like this when I didn't even know her?

"Would you like to dance?" She asked in a sweet voice as she came to stop in front of me. I could tell that she was nervous. It was obvious from her tense shoulders to her shifting focus to the fiddling of her fingers. It was as if she already knew my answer would be no; however, something about this _woman_ had intrigued me, and it made me wondered if she was really worth my time.

"Yes" I grunted. An expression of shock and surprise came over her face, and I inwardly smirked that I had the ability to throw her off her game. The look didn't last long; instead it was replaced by a joyful expression. I noted the way her eyes brightened and crinkled from her small smile, and before I could say anything (if I was going to say anything) the petite woman grabbed my hand in her slender one and led me to the dance floor.

She must have known that I hated being the center of attention because we stopped at one of the far corners on the dance floor. I felt numerous men mustering their most threatening glares at me, and I inwardly laughed at their pathetic attempts.

Their dirty looks quickly disappeared when she turned those mysterious sapphire orbs in their direction. It was a warning, her way of telling them to continue their immature actions and see what would happen. They all quickly looked away and returned to finishing their business as if she never came.

With her attention fully focused on me, she placed her right hand on my left shoulder and her left hand on my right. At that moment, I wanted to genuinely feel hatred for the intimate position we were in and desire nothing more than to put as much distant between the two of us as possible. That's what I _wanted _to feel. There was something about the way her curves fit so perfectly to my body shape, like a puzzle piece. The feeling of her clothed skin against the fabric of my suit for some reason felt so _right_. Almost _too_ right. Before I had even realized it, my hands developed a mind of their own and snaked their way around her slim waist.

I had seen it again, that pure look of innocent shock before her eyes had donned a mischievous glint in those sparkling ocean hued irises. It almost scared me. Almost because I was never frightened.

I watched her as she lowered her head so that it rested between the crook of my shoulder and my neck. I sighed under my breath, trying to ignore the tingling sensation of her breath against my exposed neck.

Several minutes had passed and my thoughts were completely occupied by her. By the time I had gotten back to studying my surroundings, I noticed that something was unusual. The Christmas tree was closer; I could even see the individual branches and decipher out the distinctive pine tree scent from the thousands of perfume trails. Other couples brushed closer by us, colorful skirts danced in my peripheral vision before they disappeared out sight. Following our footsteps, it finally dawned on me that we were dancing in circles around the Christmas tree.

We were in the center of the dance floor. I had no clue as to when we had gotten here. I looked around for any other couples to see that we weren't alone; however, the last couple was slowly exiting the dance floor, leaving us the last ones. I inwardly cursed. For a moment, I was almost glad that my business partner was dead, because that meant he wasn't here to witness this event for which I'm sure that he would have never let me live down.

It was official. This woman wasn't human at all. She was a demon.

After the last couple exited the dance floor, no one had joined us. It seemed that even if they saw it before their eyes it still unbelievable. In the gossip world there was ongoing rumor about me. They believed I was gay and secretly in love with the King of Games, my rival. I had always brushed it off. It was just unhappy people who lives were so boring that they felt the need to destroy mine. Though, I couldn't ignore… _this_ problem. One reason was because the very problem was laying her head on my chest and the other was because the cameras were either filming or snapping rapidly with bright flashes of blinding light. In a couple hours, those pictures would be leaked to magazines and television shows. It was already presaged that my fellow board meeting members were going to bring up this subject in tomorrow's meeting.

Instead of trying to change the inevitable, I studied the face of the girl who got me into this problem in the first place. There was something so familiar about this girl, as if I had seen her from somewhere. White wasn't particularly a common hair color after all.

I wasn't given the time I wanted to ponder those thoughts when she suddenly lifted her head and gently pried herself out of my loose embrace. Carefully, she bent her legs in a curtsy as she bowed her head down.

"Thank you, Mr. Kaiba." She tilted her head just high enough so I was had a perfect view of her honest sapphire eyes.

"It's Seto." I told her as I buried my hands in my trousers pocket, glancing at Mokuba who was staring at us with pair of astonished eyes. From a quick glance at her, I could see she was completely confused by the sudden reply.

"My name is Seto." In a quick change of mood, she smiled sweetly; her eyes crinkling at the edges, the blue hue of her irises transformed into a sun bathed ocean.

X-x-X

_Kisara_

I stared at Mr. Kaiba with a confused look. He seemed to understand because he clarified for me.

"My name is Seto." I watched as he took a step backwards away as if he was ashamed. He looked so cute like that. With his hair disheveled and his bangs hanging over his eyes, it made his icy blue irises all the more mysterious, and I could see why women obsessed over him. I smiled.

This time he stared at me with those eyes and behind them, I could see it, a tiny flicker of surprise. I guess no one had ever smiled at him. I glanced over at his little brother. Okay maybe there was an exception or two.

If anyone else was in this position, I think that person would be scared of Mr. Kaiba. Somehow, I wasn't scared. I felt this urge - this wanting- to see past those cold, distant eyes and see the true Seto Kaiba. I wanted to see the soul that lay beyond the cold steel wall that blocked the world out. I couldn't help but think that beyond his indifference was lonely man. As if Mr. Ka-, it was going to take me a _long_ time to get used to Seto- just wanted to be understood by people and maybe even loved.

Then again, this was Seto Kaiba and it could have all been in my imagination.

"What's your name?" He truly sounded interested. I wondered if this was the first time he had ever felt that way.

"Kisara." I replied. Out of social conduct, Mr. Kaiba took my hand and gently kissed the back of it. His lips, unlike his attitude, were warm and sent a warm tingling sensation up the length of my arm. I could tell that Mr. Kai-Seto was inexperienced to this nice gesture because his spine was rigid and his lips were tightly pressed against my skin in a firm line.

"Have a good night." He said as he stiffly stood up to his amazing height of six foot something. That was his goodbye before he sauntered his way back to his little brother. As I watched him leave I noticed how broad his shoulders were, as if he was holding the world on them, accumulating more and more burdens as he continued to live.

I glanced around the room and I watched as the other men glared at Seto with narrowed eyes but I ignored them. They weren't worth my time and they had their own partners.

"You have a safe night too." I yelled back. I don't think he heard me, for he started heading towards the door while talking (more like arguing) with his little brother. I could see his brother was teasing him. Now that was something I don't think anyone expected.

**Author's Note: I decided to do this as a new story but since I deleted the original first chapter this is going to stay as the chapter. I am going to say again, after I am done revising this story, I am going to revise "Do You Really Love Me?" the sequel to this story, before I post any new chapters. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Check profile for disclaimer. **

**Chapter 2**

_Kaiba _

My muscles were relaxed; the tension that had built up over the last couple of years had slowly seeped through my pours during the late hours of the night. Silently, I stared up at the ceiling, studying the golden rays of sunlight as they reflected off the blank walls.

Two hours ago, I was fast asleep, but much like my brother, the maids functioned at dawn, and they instantly brought life to the otherwise empty house. Not being able to fall back into my peaceful slumber, I let myself float between reality and lifeless awareness.

Chatting a mile a minute, they discussed their whole lives and problems as they navigated through the halls, working on their daily chores. Downstairs, Mokuba was watching cartoons on the large flat screen TV, their loud childish voices bouncing of the walls of the house, mingling with the maids' gossip. In the kitchen, machinery buzzed as they made breakfast, fresh grounded and brewed coffee left a scent trail to my room.

I was never one to admit defeat; I didn't even include the word in my vocabulary. However this time, I had to accept that sleep was impossible. My mind was more or less wide awake. My muscles, after being motionless for several hours began to twitch, demanding to be stretched and used. My eyelids were too light to keep them over my eyes, which left me staring blankly at my ceiling.

To escape the reality of life for a few more minutes, I managed to force my eyelids down. With my eyes shut, I thought of the list of things I needed to accomplish at work today. (Get the board members to agree to fund the new product, set up meetings with all gaming stores to sell the product, avoid talking about last night incident, etc.) I suppressed the urge to groan. It wasn't easy to convince those old bastards to go along with my plans. It would be no understatement to say they were greedy animals and didn't let their money out of their sight for even a minute, even though I had proven myself time and time again.

A small headache started to pound violently in the back of head. Ignoring it, I tried one more desperate attempt to fall asleep, forcing my eyelids to stay down so I didn't have to stare at the blank face of the ceiling.

The headache quickly spread, growing into an uncontrollable migraine. Feeling a little left out, thoughts quickly infiltrated in mind, whispering in shrill voices like women from the Christmas party. In frightening speed, both grew, one larger in size and the other louder in volume. To escape it from driving me over the edge of insanity, I decided that I had to get out of bed.

With an inaudible sigh, reluctantly, I pulled the blankets away from my legs, straightening my spine to its impressive length. I lifted myself off the bed, a series of cracks followed as I released the soreness from my stiff muscles.

From what I could remember that was my first morning, even if for a few seconds, I had almost felt at peace. My mind was constantly working, constantly sorting, thinking, deciding on what to do when it came to tournaments, amusement park plans, new products, clients and most of all Mokuba.

It was unexpected, completely unpredicted. The moment I stood up from the bed, a jolt of pain crawled its way across my head, and I felt like someone had just hit me over the head with a hammer. My vision gradually started to blur, colors started to blend into each other, shapes started to lose their form. My hangover only got worse as my thoughts ruthlessly continued to run through my mind.

Another maid walked down the hallway, her footsteps echoing louder than I remembered. Not being able to keep my control, a pained groan escaped my mouth. I dragged my body away from the bed and to the closet wall, leaning on it for support. I tried to control my uneven breathing, holding back the pathetically weak grunts and groans that wanted to escape my throat.

I should have listened to my doctor when he told me go lightly on the drinking. He told me all the reasons why, yet at the time I was organizing on a tournament for beginner duelist (something I vowed I would _never_ do again) and hadn't heard a word he said.

Once the pain had muted somewhat, I lifted my head from its resting place on the wall, staring at my room. My room had the bare minimum amount of furniture one could possibly have, just a bed and a coach. On the black leather couch, there was a sleek brand new laptop, built by my own company. By now I would have taken my shower and logged onto it, typing away as I checked for mistakes in my blueprints, editing my presentations, checking stocks. I ignored my inviting bed, forgot about the pounding sensation behind my ears and rested on the wall as I collected my thoughts before my shower.

As I stood there, staring idly at my room, my thoughts started to wander to last night. Almost immediately after getting home, I had to deal with one of Mokuba's _episodes. _I felt my lips stretch down into an ugly frown at the mention of the horrible memory, the noises of him vomiting the hundred of sweets he gobbled down, the sickening smell that lingered hours after he had left. I had almost felt sorry for the maid who was cleaning the bathroom this morning.

Despite how much I didn't want to, I grudgingly lifted myself off the wall, walking to the closet to pick my outfit for the day. I had things to do, people to argue with, people to hire, people to fire and I had to make sure that Mokuba made it to school on time.

As I sifted through my shirts and pants, I detected something odd in the air, something that smelled faintly of alcohol. Confirming it was my clothes by lifting the collar of the shirt to my nose, I grimaced. Blocking the smell away, I picked up a black cotton shirt, lifted it off the rack and threw it onto my bed. Next, I looked through my selection of pants as unpleasant thoughts played ruthlessly in my head.

I quickly decided on a pair of black jeans. Without a break in my movement, I threw the jeans onto the bed with my shirt. In perfectly balance, I bent my leg, getting the rest of the necessary garments to complete my outfit for the day.

Standing up, I walked out of the closet, closing it behind me. A shower would help me forgot everything and if I was lucky, I may even be able forget _her_.

X-X-X

"_Seto. Mokuba. I'm home." She called out in her usual sickly sweet voice. A frown marred her pretty features as she noticed the two little boys, hiding behind the kitchen door. The scowl deepened as she shook her head in disappointment and placed her hands on her hips. _

"_What are you two doing? Go change out of those filthy clothes and go put on the ones I just bought you." Her voice was firm, as if her children had just broken her favorite vase rather than got a little dirt on their shirt. _

_The two little boys returned from changing their clothes minutes later and caught their mother sitting on the couch, texting on her blackberry, scowling at something someone had said on the other line. She heard their quiet footfalls as they entered. She didn't wait for their questions as she lifted herself off the couch, walking out the door with her high heels clicking underneath her. The boys glanced at each other before following in her footsteps, closing and locking the door behind them. _

_They were in the car for at least thirty minutes now and the scenery continued to change rapidly. Their house was directly twenty five minutes from downtown, a place they had regrettably knew too well. Yet she had passed the shops with glowing signs and expensive window stores without even a sound of complaint. After the city had disappeared behind them, they turned into the more exclusive neighborhoods, somewhere they hated more than their mother's favorite shopping stores. _

_Five minutes later and they had parked in front of mansion for sale. It was sophisticated in design, two stories house with a delicately painted balcony and large porch. The stone driveway elegantly stretched to the street, decorated with spring flowers. _

_They watched as their mother's pale pink lips curled into a bright smile, a smile that should have been influenced by pure intentions instead of the vain greed that demanded she had to have the attention of the whole world, whether they liked it or not. _

"_Boys, look at your new home." _

X-X-X

_Kisara_

My blue curtains were illuminated by the morning sunlight, basking my room in a soft gentle pale light. I was already awake, panting breathlessly as I recalled the dream I had witnessed last night.

_He _had plagued my mind, taking over it like a fast spreading disease. I remembered the way his rough hands had slid down my arms, numbing the nerves beneath the layers of pale skin and muscle. His smooth baritone voice continued to ring in my ears and I swore I could almost feel his cold breath blowing against the shell of my ear. His icy light blue eyes were the only thing I saw, blurring the rest of my surroundings as I was taken over by waves of pleasure. His skin burned hotly under my fingertips as I traced the surface of his chiseled chest, drinking in every dip and angle they formed.

His gaze left me breathless, my mind was thoughtless and when I had abruptly awoke; I felt this longing in my heart for a man I barely knew.

I wanted him. I wanted to hear his low voice whispering in my ear, whispering sweet words like he had in my dream. I wanted him to brush his fingers down my arms with his fingertips, burning the nerves in a fire of passion and desire. I wanted to taste his lips and wanted to know the scent that was distinctly him. I wanted Seto Kaiba.

Pushing back my selfish desires, I untangled my legs from the sweat moistened blankets, throwing my slender legs over the side of the bed. Placing my elbows on my thighs, I let my head rest in my palms as I tried to expunge the dream out of my head.

I had just _met _the man. I didn't know anything about him or who he was or how he was with women. And what if my father had heard me?

I lifted my head from my resting place, the glaring crimson numbers of the alarm clock stared at me like a pair of eyes, angry at the world and all the people who lived in it.

It was five, a couple hours before I had to get ready and humor those dictators they called teachers. Counting from the last time I checked the alarm clock, I calculated that I only got 4 hours of sleep.

Groaning pitifully in my hands, I knew that today was going to be a _long _day.

X-X-X

_Kaiba _

As I opened the bathroom door, clad in only a towel, the cool air of my bedroom attacked my skin, creating ripples of goose bumps across the field of tissue and cells.

The room was silent and all my ears could hear was the reverberating peacefulness in the air. Of course, I could still hear the floating noises of life in other parts of the house, especially the kitchen, but the area I had created became an island of its own. Even as the maids walked down the hallway, they didn't dare disturb the peace I had created and protected.

3. 2. 1.

The door was opened with a loud slam and in the doorway appeared a little black haired boy panting heavily.

"Seto!" He called out in a flurry of pants, still gasping for airing as his lungs tried to refill with oxygen. I didn't answer his call and continued to stay silent as I finished buttoning my shirt.

After he caught his breath (if it was even possible at this point) I would probably ignore him, expecting him to slide into the room to tell me about something insignificant and pointless.

As I was about to walk out and finish the rest of my daily routine before I left to take the boy in question to school, I actually took a good look at him. His small frame was leaning against the doorway, his chest heaving up and down as his lungs tried to suck in as much oxygen as they could hold. There was only two explanations, either I was letting my brother rot out and become a couch potato or I had designed too many hallways in the house.

"You… need to come watch… the news." While his heavy breathing had calmed significantly, his voice still broke and his words held a slight lisp.

I raised my eyebrow. Since when did my brother watch the news? Deciding to humor him, I followed the boy out the door as we navigated through the house to the living room. In the back of my mind, I decided to make Mokuba exercise more. If he couldn't walk up one floor without keeling over, I was almost frightened at the thought of having to see his grade in physical education.

We easily found are way to the living room, where several maids were crowded around the TV, ogling it with eyes that I had only seen on crazed fans. At the sight of my tall figure, they quickly scattered to return to their chores as if they were mice cornered by a grinning cat. Resisting the urge to huff at the otherwise predictable behavior, I focused my attention on the loud television that was a playing a video of Kisara and I dancing.

"Last night, Pegasus held his annual business Christmas party. From many of the guests we heard that Seto Kaiba was found dancing with Kisara. Her last name is still unknown to the public but there rumors claiming she is the daughter of the president of Collins United Corporation." The news reporter took a breath before she continued, the video of us still playing on the large screen in the background.

"More rumors are blowing around that the two have become an item, though there is no evidence otherwise to prove it. However according to Mai Grant Minutia, most famously known for her inexpensive green line, has informed us differently. According to Minutia, she and Kaiba have been dating for several years and he has been hinting at marriage. Kaiba himself has yet to confirm these rumors-"

I snorted at the news. Couldn't these people mind their own business? Not being able to tolerate any of this crap they called news; I grabbed the remote off the edge of the couch, slammed my finger on the power button and watched as the TV screen faded to a motionless black.

The few brave maids, who had the courage to stay in the room, gazed at me through their eyelashes with looks of worry and fear. I resisted the urge to growl; instead, I settled for a harsh "get to work" before I calmly walked to the coat hanger and grabbed my white trench coat. I quickly slid on the garment and then opened the front door, only to stop because I had remembered that I was forgotten Mokuba.

"Mokuba, we're leaving. Now." He was quick to answer back with a loud "yes". That was all the confirmation I needed before I walked through the door, slamming it behind me as I left.

X-X-X

_Kisara_

The steam curled around my figure as I existed the bathroom, adorned with two towels, one around my body and the other twisted around my long hair. Making sure the towel around my body was secure; I unwound the towel around my hair, letting the wet locks fall in a cascade motion. Taking the dry end of the towel, I began to towel dry my hair, moving my hands in a circular motion. A few moments later, the sound of deep voice in anger echoed throughout the house.

"_Kisara!_" And that voice was my father's.

Knowing I would not be given enough time to change into clothes, I tightened the towel tighter around my frame, hurrying to the living room in a fast pace.

When I had made it to the threshold of the living room, I was by no means prepared to see the video of Kaiba and me dancing on my father's favorite news channel. It didn't take any special observatory skills to tell that my father was boiling with anger and all of it was toward me and my stupid actions.

"Are you dating Seto Kaiba?" It was a simple question by normal means but a double edge sword for me. I could tell that any answer I said would cause him to snap in anger.

"No father, we are not dating. It was just a dance." I spoke in a low voice, genuine truth laced underneath so he wouldn't have any other reason to suspect otherwise.

"Do you remember anything that I taught you, my _daughter_?" By now, I was beginning to wonder if my father could have a conversation that didn't lead back to his favorite subject: him.

"Yes father, I know all your lessons by heart." That was one of my many rehearsed lies that came so natural I easily passed it off as the truth.

"Do you know how much trouble you put me into? Now I have to convince those old bastards that there is nothing going on between the two of you. It was hard enough to get them to listen before; this might just jeopardize the entire deal if this gets out of hand."

"Yes father, I understand. It won't happen again." Again another rehearsed lie; a lie that I had said so many times I couldn't remember a time when I didn't say it.

The conversation was over. After confirming the worse hadn't happened, he slowly began to walk to the stairs, which were behind me, in slow steady steps that always meant misery every time they were directed toward someone. He stopped right beside me and I didn't dare turn my face to look at him.

"After school can you pick up a bouquet of roses for your mother?" It was by no mean a question, it was a statement that was expected to be followed without problem.

As he climbed up the stairs, I whispered quietly to myself a useless thought.

"She hates roses."

**Author's Notes: This chapter was a pain to rewrite. Everything went wrong and nothing flowed. I am actually surprised that I finished. Updates won't be in a while but I promise they will continue to keep coming. Review, please.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Check profile for disclaimer.**

**Chapter 3**

_Kaiba_

My steps were muffled by the grass, which was wet from the gentle afternoon rain. The light shower had predictably not had been predicted in the weather forecast. Nonetheless, the rain wasn't something that I had found a nuisance. This summer had been unseasonably warm. With the concrete buildings and asphalts streets trapping in the unwanted extra heat, the muggy, hot city became a muggier, hotter city of frustrated denizens, so the winter rain had come as welcomed guest.

That morning my board meeting had run a little later than usual, which wasn't an uncommon occurrence, causing the main leaders lunch breaks to be extend. I must admit, I am rather fond of my lunch breaks. It was a time characterized by its unusual presence of peace and quiet; a time where I had chosen to organize, classify and store my thoughts for later before I went back to work.

Due to the meddlesome news report, my work had become stressful. Feeling courage from the report, my secretary's thin, narrow minded friends had thought it was a good idea to watch me through my office door as they gazed at me with greedy eyes and gossiped in rather _loud _whispers about me and the entire affair. In order to escape from the unnecessary noise, I had slipped away when the women went on their lunch breaks.

The place I had chosen was one that I was automatically drawn to by conditioned habit. It was the only place from my past I felt comfortable visiting and where I allowed myself to relive old memories.

I had been introduced to its existence by my father. My father was the stereotypical workaholic. Work had come first in his priority list, second only to his loose sense of family. But one day when my brother and I were younger, he decided to spend the day with us. After calling in sick, he had grabbed Mokuba and me and drove us to a lake nearby the house.

It was vividly imprinted in my mind how everything had a silver sheen to it, exhibiting all of the beautiful and mysterious qualities that had made up the term nature. The lake was a clear blue; its depths displaying the playful blue sky that had majestically revealed itself after an afternoon of somber clouds. The grass blew gently in the wind, playfully whispering words of unbridle joy and laughter that the world outside had failed to promise me.

For a lack of a better word, it was my sanctuary, my place where I would go when I felt my barriers were starting to crumble further into a mess of rocks and dust. It was a place that I had protected by buying it up front from its previous rich owners. Because of this, it had been unofficially named Seto's Lake.

Even though the grass had grown over the pathway, I could still tell where it was by the imprint of old tire tracks and the vestige of children footprints. The spot was a popular hit with families, especially during the hot summer months after I had the lake checked for any harsh chemicals.

Walking down the now considerably hidden path, I appeared through a gap in the close knitted trees. Then I saw her.

She was sitting at the edge of the lake, her dainty feet swirling in the clear water, creating ripples on the surface. Her white hair billowed in the wind and her paisley daisy dress made her look like a Southern bell.

X-X-X

_A little boy jumped down the dusty path, tiny footprints littered the imbedded tire tracks that created an accessible path to the lake beyond the dense forest. Birds sang in branches above him and he whistled along as he spotted smaller ground animals scuttling on the forest floor, rustling bushes and fallen leaves. _

_A few minutes into his leisurely stroll and the little boy had made it to the end of the path where he saw a lake protected by the field of trees. Scowling, the little boy noticed that there was a little girl sitting by the lake; her feet dipped in the water, her hair dancing wildly in the wind. _

_Storming his way toward her, his scowl turned nasty. When he got into hearing distance he yelled rudely, "Get out!" _

_The little girl, obviously not fazed by the shout, turned her head so the little boy have a visible view of her dazed blue eyes. Once he was closer, and the scowl on his face had become practically murderous, she finally spoke. _

"_Hello." Her voice was soft, with a particular dreamy quality to it but the little boy's resolve was rock solid. _

"_Get out." He demanded again. The little girl's eyes scanned the area, before staring at his and answered in a calm voice._

"_This lake is for everyone." The scowl on the little boy's face had lowered, something that the little girl didn't think was possible, but he was interrupted before he could command the girl to leave again. _

_She stood between the trees at the end of the path which lead to the chaotic surface world. She was like a goddess, her long hair sculptured into a casual bun, adorned with a light blue fluttery dress that fell to her knees. Her blue eyes sparkled like sapphires under the golden light of the sun and they showed a genuine kindness he had never seen._

"_Kisara." Her soft voice fell over the small meadow, giving everything a gentler and sweeter quality. The little girl said a quick goodbye before running up the hill toward what the little boy assumed to be her mother. At the clearing, the little girl stopped and waved and then disappeared from the boy's sight, leaving him all alone._

X-X-X

Taking a calming breath, I approached the intruder. I knew immediately she was aware of my presence because at the moment I appeared in the clearing, she turned her attention to me. Something was different about her I noticed, and it didn't take me long to see that her eyes lacked their inviting warmth from last night.

"Hello, Mr. Kaiba." Her voice was sophisticated, quiet, but very feminine with hint of trained etiquette. However, there was some emotion laced underneath, something I had inferred to be a deep sadness.

Quietly, I sat down beside her, and instead of letting my interest get the best of me, I turned my gaze to the rippling lake.

"It's Seto." I reminded her. She chuckled quietly, then shivered, before looking back at me her eyes shimmering once more with their memorizing shine.

"I'm afraid I can't call you that. It's a little too personal for my taste." I wondered if I gave this chance to another woman, would she jump at the offer or like this girl in front of me deny it. I assumed that the other woman would have jumped for joy and I absentmindedly noted this for future reference.

Kisara gave off another shiver before I had finally asked her the question that had pestering me since I got here.

"How long have you been here?" Her head tilted slightly upward, and her eyes gazed at the sky. I watched her as she went through the events in her head before she finally lowered her gaze to give me an answer.

"At least an hour." She replied as goose bumps rose up her pale bare arms. For a moment, the thought that I should take off my jacket and give it to her crossed my mind but I squashed the idea quickly before my thoughts got to out of control.

"So what brings you here, Mr. Kaiba?" Her head tilted to the left and I studied as the strands fell gracefully to her the side of her shoulder, the ends brushing against her skin.

"I needed a breather." I replied and I could see from the expression in her eyes that she was curious to know more.

"How long have you known this place?" That was her next question, the spark of curiosity growing brighter in her tantalizing orbs.

"Since I was a child." I lifted my head upwards and studied as the clouds rolled lazily by in the ocean of light blue, the sun shining bright.

I felt her gaze and a part of me worried that she was trying to peer into my thoughts. When she realized her efforts were futile, she turned her eyes to the lake, studying the way she turned her feet in smooth neat circles.

"Can I tell you a story?" Her piercing gaze was on me again, and while this time I could tell she wasn't making a conscious effort to see into my thoughts, her eyes still held that curious hunger of knowledge.

I grunted in reply and her mouth twitched up into what resembled an exasperated smile. It was gone in less than a minute, transforming into a sort of sad but content twitch of the lips.

"When I was little, I often had a habit of wandering around, and by a stroke of luck, I found this place." Her pale long fingers stroked the grass lovingly, displaying her emotional attachment to this place clearly.

"I used to come to this lake and play all the time. On the days that it was hot and I didn't feel like doing anything, I would just lie in grass and stare out into the sky, trying to make shapes out of the clouds."

"One day, I walked to the lake out of boredom and that's where I first saw them. It was a mother and her daughter and they were sitting by the lake, laughing at something. I couldn't bring myself to bother them, so I stood behind that tree," she pointed to a tree near the path, "and I watched them. They left after a couple of hours and during that time all they had were these big smiles on their faces. I was so jealous of that girl. You see my mother died in a car crash and I wished that instead of that little girl and her mother it was my mother and me sitting by the lake, talking as they did." She cleared her throat, her breath wearily shaking.

"They continued to visit every Saturday for the rest of the summer and I would sit behind the trees and wait for them to leave."

"The next summer, the beginning of my first grade year, temperatures reached an all time high. On the hottest day, I was particularly bored, and around noon, I decided to leave my house and wandered to the lake. Of course they were there, feet dipped into the water as they snacked on ice cream cones. Again, I hid behind the tree and I remember thinking about my mother. Would my mother be like this girl's or would she be different? Would I be happier with her?"

She paused for a moment, took a breath and then continued, her emotions swelling in the air. "A week later, it was broadcasted on the news that there was a large car crash on the freeway that had killed ten people and the girl's mother was on the list. I burst into tears at the news. I felt as if I had lost my own mother again."

"The Saturday of that week I saw the girl crying at the lake. I tried to comfort her but I couldn't move. I kept thinking that it wasn't my mother, that I didn't even know her and it had nothing to do with me. But something inside me told me to go. Eventually she left and I never saw her again." Her voice broke, tears flowing from the corner of her eyes.

"I, however, couldn't stop coming. Something told me to come here every weekend and I would curl up in the grass and would cry and cry and cry. It soon became an addiction. I felt so empty and the little girl kept haunting my dreams. It had gotten so bad that my father had to take me to the physiologist. Slowly, I learned to cope but I refused to come here, always afraid that I was going to break down. Until now."

She was staring at the grass, her fingers stroking the dull blades, gripping them tightly. I watched as she wiped her tears away with the back of her hand before I turned my head away. I was never good with crying women.

"So this is your sanctuary?" To say I was genuinely curious would be lie but I felt that it was the right action to take in a situation like this.

She chuckled, turning her slightly irritated blue eyes toward me. "I guess you could call it that. Is this is your sanctuary?"

I smirked. She was skillful in asking me questions that were almost impossible to evade without lying but I always enjoyed a little competition. "It depends on your perspective of things."

I tilted my head to the side so I could stare right back at her. At first, she refused to lower her gaze but like many before her, her eyes changed focus under my authority demanding gaze, though rather hesitantly.

"If I asked you a question would you answer me seriously?" She again raised her eyes to mine and I noticed that she had moved a couple inches closer.

I smirked and daringly moved closer so our faces were only an inch apart. "Would you be annoyed if I told you no?"

In her smile was a hint of amusement and my smirk widened. This woman was turning out to be more interesting, along with a good source of entertainment.

X-X-X

_Kisara_

For the next two hours, we talked. I learned that he was in his early twenties (I guessed twenty-two but he wouldn't confirm or deny anything.) and he tried guessing my age and got it right after just a few hints.

I also learned that he went to Harvard and studied there for a couple years and had earned his bachelor's degree in business. He told me a little bit about his younger brother though I noticed that most of the stories were rather horrible memories, and I was convinced that Mr. Kaiba easily got annoyed by his younger sibling.

Steadily above us the sky faded from the cheerful light blue to a dreary gray as the receding storm clouds once more returned.

We finally had to stop when Mr. Kaiba got a loud phone call from his cell phone in his coat pocket. With a suppressed exasperated sigh, he answered the phone, where a woman shrilly told him that the board members were questioning her to tell them where he was. He quickly rattled off an excuse which she quickly informed to whomever was hovering at her shoulders like a screech owl.

He then quickly shut his phone and slipped it back into his coat pocket, squeezing the bridge of his nose, probably frustrated beyond belief.

"Well it was nice meeting you again." I said in all politeness as I held out my hand after we stood up from the ground, the grass and pollen thoroughly dusted off our wrinkled clothes. He looked at my hand, in a rather if I dared to say it, curious expression before grabbing it and brushing my knuckles against his warm mouth.

Electricity shot up the length of my arm, making every nerve vibrate in pleasure, and I struggled to contain the breathless gasp that threatened to escape. His eyes displayed that he was amused by my struggle and he brushed his lips against my knuckles again. This time it sent electrical sparks to my abdomen where it created a pool of heat and the breathless moan I was holding back was released.

Glaring at him as he walked up the hill and through the path, I turned my back only when I knew he was gone. I cooled my burning face by splashing it with cold water from the lake. After composing myself, I followed Mr. Kaiba's deep footprints, wandering back to home where I knew I would be unwelcomed.

-Thirty Minutes Later-

It would have been a difficult walk if not for the street lamps that had stubbornly refused to stop shining. There was very few people and cars on the sidewalks and roads. They ignored me, not even daring to give me a second glance but my feelings weren't the least bit hurt. I welcomed the warm silent atmosphere that was presented to me, a chance that I had rarely received.

Heels clicked loudly behind me but I ignored them like everything else. I didn't expect, however to be sharply pulled down by my long hair. With that one painful strong tug, the person behind me had yanked me to the ground; my head hitting the concrete with a sickening thud that made my stomach twist itself in knots.

My head throbbed in pain as blurred shapes began to swim into my vision, the street lights' glare became disfigured halos. I directed my gaze toward the sky where I could see the curve a slender feminine body, her dark hair blending into the rich onyx sky.

I felt as a pointed high heel boot was pressed into my stomach, a grunt of pain slipping from my throat as I coughed, feeling as if she was trying to make me eject my stomach from my mouth.

I watched as a shadow where her mouth was located lifted a couple inches higher.

I didn't have time to ponder the action any further because she pushed her heel deeper into my stomach and I coughed harder, my throat becoming very agitated from the dry heaving.

I didn't need a light to tell you who grinned sinisterly at the sight of me gagging my stomach. I didn't need my vision to tell you that her eyes were narrowed in malicious enjoyment. How I knew this was because of past memories and a name that gave me the urge to groan and laugh at the same time. Mai Grant Minutia.

**Author's notes: So for some odd reason I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I have to apologize that it is really late but when you're trying to balance three stories and teachers throwing homework at you, everything tends to be a little bit late. I am not using it as an excuse but I believe you should be informed on why I haven't been updating. All that is left for me to say is review, review, review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Check profile for disclaimer**

**Warning: Suicidal thoughts and mild language**

**Chapter 4**

_Kisara_

Her dark eyes glared brightly through the darkness and I was trapped in their inauspicious glory. I was sucked into her world, a cacophony of swirling hate, malice, and excruciating pain.

"Hello, _Kisara_." Her voice was a low deep rolling wave of notes as she spoke in the tune of a venomous hiss. Her sardonic words dripped from her mouth like foaming poison.

The street lamp above me, which was emitting a yellow tinted white light, had spread across the midnight velvet sky as if trying to ensnare the stars in its light. Shapes which had consisted of sharp lines and frayed edges had faded, losing any signs of definite form as they swirled into malformed blobs of multiple colors.

"No response." She taunted as she watched me struggle to catch my breath. She shook her head, as if she was chiding a child who had been caught stealing. "People have no manners these days."

From her perfect posture to her falsely seductive voice and her malicious eyes, I knew she was challenging me. She was practically _begging_ me to throw her my wittiest remark. She wanted to create any reason to raise that pretty designer shoe of hers and pound it into my skull.

"I see you to choose to remain silent. Just like that weak mother of yours. She was also spineless. Didn't even have the will to walk out when she knew it was going to kill her. I wonder; are you going to be the same?"

Her comments should have incited my anger. Instead, it was like pouring ice water on a burning flame. Any retort I might have said vanished on my tongue. I remained quiet with the hope that Mia would have her fun, and when she got tired, she would walk away and I would limp all the way home.

"Still choosing to remain quiet." She shook her head once more, her curls dancing along her shoulders. "Just like that pathetic mother of yours." Her grin had widened as she found enjoyment in her bullying.

I kept my gaze on the shifting light of the street lamp, watching as it slowly began to eat away at the silver rusted pole.

"And what about your parents? How appalled do you think they would be if they had heard their daughter beat a poor innocent girl on the street?"

For a moment, there was no response. Then, her lips twisted open, and she emitted a bitter malicious laugh.

"The innocent bystander." Her voice punctuated the last syllables as if she was spitting. In gradual movements, I watched as she lowered herself so her calves and thighs were parallel, her face illuminated by the light of the waning moon.

"You are still so predictable." She shook her head in disbelief once more. "I expected much more from you, considering the fact that you bottle all your emotions inside. For _years_, I have been waiting for you to explode. I certainly thought that if I just keep pushing those little red buttons of yours you would." Her mocking huff echoed loudly. "It's too bad you didn't, I actually wanted to hear your little sad sappy story." The weight of her heel dug deeper into the layers of my skin, and I struggled to suppress my pained whimpers.

"I think that's enough for now." I could practically _hear_ the smug grin as it twisted her lips. Satisfied, she removed her foot from my stomach. Her heels clicked against the pavement of the side walk as she walked away.

Each stride which carried her farther away brought me immense relief. Carefully, I raised my torso off the ground when a terrible thought struck me.

"Are you doing this because of rumors?" The question was enough to make her pause and I watched as tension coiled the muscles from her lower back, to her neck.

"Would you kindly repeat what you just said? I'm afraid I didn't hear you." She mocked but I was too caught up in my thoughts to pay attention to her response.

"You are in love with him, aren't you?" As her form began to violently tremble, I knew I need to stop. And as I tried to gather my wits, adrenaline and curiosity worked simultaneously to unravel them.

"And you were trying to catch his attention, but..." _I had caught it instead. _At that time, the world could have stopped spinning and I wouldn't have noticed.

She thought I had done it on _purpose_. She thought that I _purposely_ sought out Mr. Kaiba that night. I didn't even know she had attended the party let alone her intentions. And really, I couldn't take all the blame because Mr. Kaiba had chosen to respond back.

Just as I was going to explain the entire situation to her, her pointed heel made contact with my face. Electrical shocks tortured the muscle and tissue of my cheek. With force she exerted in her kick, I violently rolled to the concrete wall. One blow was not enough. She continued her onslaught, pushing her shoe into my stomach over and over as the sharp surface of concrete dug into the soft skin of my back.

"It's your fault." She was shaking with tremendous force as if she was struggling to contain herself and the words that threatened to overwhelm her.

Unable to control them, weak pitiful whimpers of pain escaped my lips. However, instead of finding satisfaction in my pain, it only enticed her anger.

"Don't you dare cry! You don't even know the true pain is. This, this is _nothing_."

As she ranted, I took the chance to _breathe_, comfort washing over me in waves of relief as my chest rose and fell in a familiar steady rhythm. After gradually bringing my system back to function, I spoke again.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't even know how you feelings for him." Beyond the stoic hatred could see the emotional beaten girl with a past as terrible as mine.

Silence defined the next five suffocating seconds as I tried to plead to her to understand. Her mouth trembled from unknown emotions as she tried to blink away the hot angry tears from her eyes.

When her mouth twisted in a sneer, I knew my case was lost. "You lying whore." She accused, holding her chin high as she glared at me through her long eyelashes.

"I am not lying." Her eyes, which had at first been cold and calculating, slowly revealed an endless pain. She trembled as she pounded into my stomach with her foot, pain crashing over me like a series of powerful drowning waves.

"It's your fault! If you hadn't gone and been a slut he would have been mine and you wouldn't be in this mess. You bit-"

I felt as if I were trapped in a hail storm. The effect was tantalizingly slow as overwhelming electrical shocks overloaded my senses. Everything started to fade away: the warmth of the street lamps, the smoky night air, the trails of heavy perfume, the whispering wintery wind. Even the more obvious details had left, escaping into the night along with my sanity. Alone, I screamed. I cried. I begged and pleaded for anyone to come save me, but my cries fell on deaf ears.

When her anger finally been quenched and her adrenaline crashed, she ran away, her heels shattering the numbing silence.

"_Stay away from him." _That was her finally threat and we both knew it was a promise.

X-x-X

_She was swept to the floor by his large hands. Her breath had been knocked out of her, rushing out of her lungs and into the empty foyer. _

_From the corner, a little girl yelled for her in a sweets angelic voice, crying sweetly in broken sobbing syllables. Pain had twisted into her back but with a mental wall she ignored it and continued to sluggishly turn so she could see her heavenly angel one more time. _

_Standing there was her little girl, her long white hair pulled into a ponytail resting on her shoulder. She was still in her day clothes, a mini denim skirt and a green blouse, blue metal bangles adorning her wrist. Her angel's bright blue eyes stared back at her in horror at the burgeoning bruise on her cheek. Part of her feared to look in a mirror and the darkening of her pale skin. Carefully, she licked her lips, removing the traces of blood and tears from them. _

_She didn't want her angel to see her like this; she didn't want her to suffer from this. Somehow she needed to drive her daughter away, to get her out of this hell. _

X-x-X

Around me was a silent world, a world of blurred colors and shapes and the overwhelming smell of blood. When Mia had gone, the air had cleared to a breathable quality but the silence had been nearly suffocating.

In front of me, the light of the street lamp began to devour everything it touched, dripping and oozing down the length of the silver pole. With the tint of panic, I used my hands to stabilize my torso, purposely ignoring as the electrical shocks made my muscles spasm out of control.

X-x-X

_Before she could execute her plan, her attention was diverted to the very problem at hand. _

"_Focus on me, Xeraphina. Now tell me what were you doing with him? I promise I won't get angry." At that last line the corners of his mouth twitched as if he found this entire situation humorous. _

_With a quick glance, Xeraphina noticed as her angel stared intently at him, her focus now directed to her father's shaking fist. She too averted her attention to the destructive hand of his and knew the situation was quickly turning for the worse. His fist was clenched, his veins were quite visible and on his knuckles was her blood, sliding down the length of his fingers._

_His eyes were still glued to her form but she looked away, choosing to stare at her little angel. Tears coated the skin of her daughter's cheeks and her hands covered her ears as she tried to block out the noise. If only her tiny hands could protect her from the reality of the truth. If only her tiny hands could deafen her ears as she watched as the most precious woman in her life slowly escaped from her. _

X-x-X

The light quickly devoured the pole, sloshing onto the ground as it gradually got closer and closer to my form. I took a deep breath, pushing my anxious jitters away, and with my hands scaled up the wall. My body, albeit very slowly, followed my movements, rising from its crouched and pained position into a more anguishing stance.

X-x-X

"_Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!" Her yells echoed in the room, vibrating against the walls with powerful emotions. She knew what her daughter wanted. She wanted the man, her father, to stop hurting her, her mother. Her daughter wanted her father to love her and to be a happy family once more. It sounded like an easy demand; however, nothing with this man was ever easy. _

_His eyes were piercing and bright, drowning the rest of the colors and happiness in the room. Some part of her wondered if she blinked that she could see his eyes the way they were long ago, full of respect and love. _

X-x-X

I waited on the wall for a minute to collect my bearings as I continued to watch the carnivorous light. Once I was sure that I was stable enough to walk, I began to hobble up the street, the light snapping at my heels.

X-x-X

"_What did you tell him? That I hit you. That you're innocent and I am the big bad wolf." The grin on his face resonated something deep inside her soul and she knew she found the missing puzzle piece to her complex problem. _

_The optimistic side of her wanted to stay with him so that when he realized how broken he was she could be there to help his healing process. So no matter how many bruises formed on the surface of her skin or how badly her muscles cried when she entered the hot bath, she held onto that fruitless hope, waiting patiently for the day to come. _

_As she looked into his eyes and searched for any hint the man she had fallen in love with it had made her finally realize, if not too late, that this was out of her reach. There was nothing she could do, nothing she could say that would possible deter him from the destructive road he had entered. _

_He ignored her little angel's shouts as his patience reached the end of its reel. Lacking his previous gentleness, his callous hands gripped the fabric of her collar, and with the strength of his arms, he pulled her to his face so their noses were a hair away. _

_She took this chance to study the man he had become. Angry cold eyes, forehead creases, furrowed eyebrows, a mouth permanently frozen in a scowl. He reminded her of the men she worked with in the news station that no matter the happy the news, they were always stuck in a foul mood because they couldn't trust the fact miracles existed._

_Cautiously, she veiled over her gaze so she had the appearance of indifference. This did not settle with him; his frown stretched lower and his eyebrows were furrowed so close together it looked as if he had a unibrow_

"_Answer me when I ask you a question, X-era-phin-a." Clutching her collar tighter, he lifted her to her feet, giving her a split second before he pinned her to the wall. The pain that raveled around her back exploded into terrorizing electrical shocks, and without the chance to stop them, small whimpers escaped her mouth. _

X-x-X

I managed to convince my legs to drag me to the middle of the street. _"Behind you! Behind you!"_ My mind warned me as I mentally begged my legs to go faster. To hurry. To run. To not get consumed.

That's when I knew how insignificant my existence was, how truly small my life was compared to this city, this country, this world. If I were to be consumed by this light, no one would notice and frankly no one would care. I was just a stranger, an unknown passerby who would leave no thumbprint on their pathetically small lives. And if I died by a car because I was the one who was foolish enough to run into the middle of the road, they would probably give a comment like, "Such a shame. And she was so young" and then continue on with their miserable lives giving no thought to my extinguished existence.

Life is miserable. It is cold and cruel. Emotions destroy people and love ruins lives yet why was a part of me chiding myself for thinking this. Why did a part of me become excited every morning to see the rising sun as it bath its rays over our decaying earth? It was obvious humans were useless creatures who only knew of destruction and violent deaths yet the sun rose every day in hopes that its light would be used for something worthwhile.

That's when I wished a car would race down the road and hit me so I never have to see that hopeful sun again.

X-x-X

"_Stop!" Xeraphina watched with a detached gaze as the little girl lunged toward her father, grabbing the muscles on his arm in an attempt to stop him. For a moment, he paused, turned his gaze to the crying little girl's as she begged and pleaded him. _

_It was brief, nothing more than a fleeting second, but she knew it had been there. As their little girl, their beautiful precious baby girl, lunged to save her mother, she truly became an angel. When her feet had lifted away from the ground, soft velvet wings of white sprouted from her shoulder blades, encasing the room in all their bright glory. Did she really give life to that? Did she really hold that little girl in her arms after sixteen hours of labor? Could she really have produced something so pure and beautiful from something such a grotesquely ugly and broken relationship? _

_He didn't even glance at her as he loosened his grip on her neck before letting his hand drop to his side. Silently, she slid down the wall, falling into a crumpled heap to the ground. _

_"We will talk about this later." It was her warning for the night, a sick threat she knew that wasn't as empty as she wished to believe it. He paused for a moment before with a tender touch; he gently peeled his daughter's fingers away from his arm and left the room with heavy footsteps. _

_For now she was safe in the presence of an angel. Her sparkling little angel._

X-x-X

Run. Run. Run. Run! Live. Live. Live. _Live_. Don't die. Don't die. Don't die! Don't die!

X-x-X

_Xeraphina beckoned her angel to her side, using her finger to call her closer. Her daughter obeyed, her light footsteps filling the room with sweet music. She wanted to pretend she didn't see it, the sharp sense of hesitance in her daughter's stare as she kneeled by her side, gazing at her face with the feelings of such horrid fascination. _

_Her angel never asked permission, never confirmed if it was allowed, as she placed her small fingers on her bruised faced. At first, she winced at the warm touch but when her daughter began to drag her finger in smooth rhythmic circles, she found for a moment the pain had eased. Silently, they listened as her breathing slowed, singing to the soft steady beats of her daughters movement as she allowed herself a moment of peace. _

_Before she liked it, the time for comfort had been spent and no more time would be allowed. Gradually, she lifted her hand to rest over her daughters, before she pulled it away, lacing their fingers together in her lap. She then took her free hand and pulled her daughters ponytail out. With fascination, she watched as the long locks cascaded and curled down her daughter's arm._

_She was always engrossed by her daughters long pearl tresses. From childhood, Xerphina had always despised her hair color. Against her pale skin, it made her appear as if she was a phantom, easily forgettable and transparent. Yet against her daughter's ivory skin, she saw the signs of a glittering creature, a kind angel who with the beat of her wide wings could blow away all the desires and conflicts that ruined the world. _

X-x-X

Run! Run! Run! Run!

X-x-X

"_Run away. Get out of here." Her voice was a weak quivering whisper instead of the strong confident tone she always spoke with. _

_Her daughter shook her head in defiance, snuggling closer to her. They were so close; an angel was close to her, their heartbeats singing together. _

"_I wanna go with Mommy!" Her daughter declared; her resolve brightening her angel's beautiful irises. _

_A ghost of a smile twitched the corners of her mouth as she shook her head also, trying to convey the unspoken message. "I won't make it." _

"_No! No! No! Mommy has to make it! Kisara won't go without Mommy!" It was probably futile. Her daughter was so much like her father in this respect. Once she set her mind to do something she wouldn't quit until she had accomplished that goal, despite all the risks and warnings. _

_She was going to attempt to convince her once more but before she could attempt it, she began to cough. It was at first a gentle cough, nothing more than clearing of her throat. She was going to stop to take a breath but then she continued to cough. Desperately, she took the endeavor to stop but her efforts were derailed when blood crawled up the narrow path of her throat, coating her mouth and spraying into her clenched hand. ._

"_Stop! Stop it Mommy! Stop!" Fear plagued her daughter's expression as she began to shake her mother's pale shoulders. "Stop it! Stop it!" _

X-x-X

Live! Live! Live! Live!

X-x-X

"_Help me Daddy! Mommy won't stop coughing! Stop the coughing Daddy!" Loud sobs escaped the little girl's mouth as she pleaded for help from the man who caused this, but there was no sign of him. _

_With anguished desperation, she laid her head on her mother's shoulder, tears running down her cheeks as she cried. Through the tears, she could hear the faint sound of a musical pounding. __**Thump. Thump. Thump. **__It continued softly for a minute, a steady, rhythmic beat that enchanted the little girl. Then it rose, the musical thumps became louder and faster often cutting each other off rather than being fully expressed._

_As the tune spiraled out of control, blood slithered down Xeraphina's chin before it dropped below, coming in contact with the little girl's upper cheek. Wondering if the rain had somehow managed to escape into the house, the little girl raised her head and was quick to notice the crimson trail escaping from the corner of her mother's mouth. Another drop slipped from the trail, this time landing on the little girl's lips. Her curiosity had been piqued and tentatively she stretched her tongue, gliding it over her lips before bringing back into the cavern of her mouth. It tasted faintly like a fork and she was quick to decide that she didn't like it. _

_Fear crept slowly into her throat as the little girl brought her ear once more to her mother's chest, searching for the loud noise that she had only heard minutes before. _

_It wasn't there. There was no pounding, no loud song that made her want to sing along. Raising her head once more, she angled her eyes to gaze into her mother's. Where there used to be a sparkle of life it was covered by a shadowed darkness. She searched and searched for the smile that light her mother's eyes like when they licked ice cream on a hot summer day or the kindness that highlighted the soft blue of her irises when she read her favorite book before bed. She searched and searched and searched for the eyes in her memories but she only saw the same cold lifeless shadows. _

"_She's dead." _

X-x-X

Don't die! Don't die! Don't die! Don't die!

X-x-X

"_You're lying!" It was a bold statement, one filled with doubt and fear that it made the little girl's voice shudder._

_He leaned nonchalantly against the doorway, arms crossed, ankles locked against each other, a grin plastered on his face. _"_Now why would I lie about something so important like that, hmm?" _

"_Because you're a mean rude man who doesn't love anyone but himself." His façade stayed solid, his lips never moving from his irritating smirk but his eyes flashed painfully. However, that only lasted for a second, being so brief that it was easy for little girl convince herself it was just an illusion. _

"_Well it makes me wonder what you would say if you had a better vocabulary." If possible his grin widened and tears spilled from her cheeks._

_It was a split decision with no more thought put into it than a blind impulse. Something was telling her to run away. She needed to cry, to mourn for the lifeless body in their foyer that used to belong to her warm mother, her wonderful mother. She yearned for somewhere warm with laughter and happiness, a place with a family sitting at a dinner table, a mother and father arguing childishly while the child cheered from the sidelines. And with that need on the forefront of her mind, she ran through the door. _

_For a minute, she just ran. Ran through the thick torrents of icy rain, ran from the haunting of the house, ran from the body of her mother, ran from the nightmares that were certain to haunt her. When she had run out of breath, when her legs refused to move any farther and burned with overuse she had halted, surrounded by unlighted houses. _

"_Run. Run as far away as you can. You'll come back to me. Just like your mother." The door closed with a slam, echoing as empty as the street. And for those who were most unfortunate to drive past that street that night, they would always remember the little girl, who at first appeared to be angel with gentle white wings, crying in the pouring rain._

X-x-X

She had made the mistake to look behind her shoulder. During that tiny second of weak reassurance she had misplaced her step, her ankle twisted sending her knees to the concrete and her hands placed clumsily in front of her.

The pouring rain pounded on her clothed back, the icy rain drops seeping into the layers of her clothes as it chilled the surface layer of her skin. In the silence of the night she cried, cried for a mother who had long left her, cried for the life she should have been granted, cried for the people she had hurt along the way. Without a word or argument, she let herself be overtaken by the torrents of rain and the creeping light. Then for a split moment, she swore she found heaven.

**Author's notes: For this chapter I wanted to write a compelling chapter that would make anyone want to grab the tissue box and start bawling like a baby. I tried to be descriptive and tried to put Kisara's rolling emotions to the surface. I feel I did an okay job, I am not one hundred percent happy but I still like the direction its going in. Thank you for reading this and review please. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Check profile for disclaimer. **

**Chapter 5**

_Kaiba _

Sunshine splashed the walls of my bedroom; their golden transparent rays peeked through the fluttering curtains. I awoke from my slumber to the empty face of my ceiling. The noises of the house surrounded me like a cacophony of sounds: the grinds of the blender, the high pitched squeals of the TV, the whispered gossip of the maids.

Lying quietly, I felt the numbing sensation flowing through my veins. A voice in my mind pleaded not to leave the comfort of my silk sheets. Ignoring its cries, I unwound from cocoon of blankets and swung my legs over the edge of my mattress to the floor.

My feet shuffled across the carpeted floor as I traveled to my closet. As the white doors opened, my walk in closet revealed a multitude of clothes. I quickly selected an outfit: a pair of black jeans, a long sleeve pinstriped dress shirt.

As per my routine, I threw my clothes unceremoniously onto the edge of the bed and entered the bathroom. It was beautiful bathroom with marble floors and gold painted walls. A Jacuzzi type bath occupied most of the space along with a fairly sizable shower. Very little décor decorated the room, creating an atmosphere of simple elegance.

I ignored the extravagance that surrounded me, stripping my night clothes off my frame. Quietly, I strode over to the shower and carefully twisted the knobs to the perfect temperature. After waiting for the water to become warm, I entered the shower. The water pounded my back with fury, unraveling the winding tension from my spine.

As I was combing the shampoo through my hair, her face flashed before my vision. Her blue orbs, her soft sweet smile, they haunted my dreams. There was a something about her, something which set her apart from other high class women.

She didn't strut around as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world and just for that reason the world should fall at her feet. I could remember the grace in her gait, the rustling of her dress, the soft click of her heels. There wasn't any sign of malicious intent in her eyes or any sign greed had completely consumed her common sense. Whenever I spoke, I remembered the intense concentration she used to listen to my words. Always calm, around her was the surrounding of a polite confidence and integrity. She didn't throw herself at my feet or try to call to my sexual senses to win me over.

However, what seemed to bother me was I felt I knew her from somewhere. It felt as if deep buried in my memories, her bell like voice rang softly, tempting me to remember and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't.

Not wanting to create stress so early in the morning, I finished washing out the last of my shampoo. The knobs turned soundlessly as I twisted them, the water poured softer and softer until it came to a full stop. For the briefest moment, I rested in the steam of the water, contemplating her existence.

_Ring. _The shrill cry of the alarm ripped and tore at the silence, awaking me from my trance. Avoiding my thoughts, I exited the shower, searching for the towel on my right. Its fluffy surface made contact with my hand and I tugged at it, wrapping it around my form.

Steam billowed out from the doorway as I entered my bedroom. Hurriedly, I dried my skin before putting on my clothes for the day. The noise of the television dominated over everything with the occasional clink of the fork.

I turned my gaze to my night stand, the green lights of the clock glared brightly at me. Falling into my routine, I searched for my laptop, and when I had found it, I left my bedroom. Downstairs, I discovered my little brother resting on the couch with his shoes on and his backpack lying beside him.

"Mokuba." At the sound of my voice, he pressed the power button, the screen faded to a reflective black. In swift movements, he grabbed his backpack, swung it over his shoulder and headed to the door. In perfect ease, the door glided to an open in which Mokuba walked through and closed with quiet precision.

An older, faithful maid turned her eyes toward me in disbelief. "What did you do to that child?"

I gave her a brief acknowledgement before striding toward the door to follow my younger brother. "I taught him to behave." I shouldn't have answered. Partly because I felt she was inferior but mostly because she was wasting my time.

"Do you mind coming to my house to teach my kids?" She cried out as I closed the door.

X-x-X

The conference room was a fire with whispers as I entered. My five fellow board members stared at me with intense concentration as I sat down in my seat. In quiet observation, I noted the tensing of their smiles, their necks and shoulders stiffened as I made myself comfortable into my patent leather chair.

"You're late Kaiba." Crump, my accountant, had informed me. He partly oversaw the company's finances and often was the deal breaker on new merchandise brought to us by clients.

"I arrived on time Crump. Now where is our client?" Small framed glasses gleamed in the artificial light as the face they belonged to leaned forward.

"He is in the elevator." At the explanation, I grabbed a folder from my briefcase. I swiftly skimmed through the papers, refreshing my memory on the necessary information.

"Crump and the others are getting increasingly concerned that you are arriving later and later to work. As you know, board meetings are run by you and if you are not here we can't conduct any business. I also have to include the fact that if the client does begin to speak about our deal before your arrival we would be opening ourselves to numerous unnecessary legal problems." Johnson, my lawyer, was our legal advisor. He handled any legal problems that developed and had a reputation for squashing them.

"Then you know very well to stop the client before he begins." I raised my gaze for a moment to Johnson's face. His eyes were slightly narrowed, brows furrowed, his lips forced into a smooth smile. A stereotypical lawyer.

"And what if you fail to show for a meeting." Gansely, the vice president of Kaiba Corporations, was a large man who over went matters I could not over see.

"Then I would call Martha and inform her I could not come in which you would postpone the meeting and reschedule it for a better time." Newsbit, the technical expert, silently stared at Lector.

Lector cleared his throat loudly. "What if they don't want to reschedule another date?" Lector handled all my national and international affairs, and with his persuasive personality, he had a reputation for getting exactly what he wanted. He was the oldest employee of the board having worked two decades under the leadership of my father and a decade under mine.

"We are a growing multimillion gaming company. If they don't want to associate themselves with us and deal business then that is their loss."

"That may be the case, however-" Lector started to explain but I cut him off with a narrowed gaze.

"With all these arguments, I am starting to wonder if you're so incompetent that you can't even follow the simplest of directions." They all wore identical expressions of disgust.

"On behalf of all my fellow members, I assure you we are not incompetent." Crump's guttural speech rang loudly in the conference room, echoing along the walls.

"Then are you suggesting I am incompetent?" I questioned, my eyes roamed their faces. Each had formed their features into emotionless lines, their true feelings boiling in the dark depths of their irises.

"No, we are not." Johnson smoothed over quickly exactly like a lawyer who was starting to see the warning signs of case going wrong.

"Now that we are finished with this discussion, I would like to start talking business." I gazed once more at all five aged faces before returning my attention to the door.

"Now can you please give our client your full attention?"

X-x-X

"And-d-d you-u-u see it-t will-l-l-l raise your-r-r stocks-" We were currently being presented by our client a chart of predicted rise in of stocks if they sold their merchandise with our new merchandise.

I could see he was nervous. He looked no older than twenty one and obviously this was his first briefing meeting. In his ratted suit, he was quivering from the nails of his toes to the strands of his hair. His words slurred to the point they were almost incomprehensive.

"Is this your first time in a board meeting?" Fear shaded his eyes as he turned his attention toward me.

"Y-y-yes." I held his gaze, watching the shiver that shook his shoulders.

"How long have worked at your firm?" The shiver trembled down the length of his spine, sweat dripping his brow.

"A-a-a year-r and a-a half." He used his hand to wipe away the sweat; the salty water falling from his fingers.

My thoughts began to form, rearranging themselves into a plan of action. Unthreateningly, I leaned into my chair, crossing my hands in my lap. "Please tell your employer to send a more experienced employee if he wishes to do business with us."

Seemingly gratified, he collected his charts and briefcase and would have bolted through that door if I did not stop him.

"And also please inform him that he was a week to call and reschedule and I will not accept any calls after that." With a nervous nod, he shook his head, running through the door as fast as he possibly could.

"That was an opportunity! Why did you let him go?" Lector roared in my ear, his face blotching red.

"It was a trap." I calmly stated, closing the file folder and placing it back into my briefcase.

"How so?" Gansely questioned, glaring at me with suspicion.

"They purposely sent us an inexperienced worker because they want to judge our characters. If we were unethical, greedy bastards we would have jumped the poor man and tricked him into a one sided deal." I closed my brief case with a snap as I lifted myself out of my comfortable chair.

"Besides, I don't want to another company which fails because I made a forced deal with young novice."

"And mind you so greatly explain why that is?" Newsbit requested.

"As a novice they don't fully comprehend the business world and might promise one thing but give a complete total other thing as a result of their ignorance." Sparing one last glance around the room, I searched for any more questions that burned on their sly tongues. When I could find none, I opened the door.

"As I see you have no further questions I have work to accomplish today and can't afford to have my time wasted any longer on these questions." With those final words, I bid them goodbye and headed to my office.

X-x-X

A knock echoed through the hollowed door, the faint scratch of nails across the doorknob hinted at the identity of the person.

"Come in." I signaled. The door was carefully pushed open, my secretary appearing in the doorway. She was dressed in a tight pencil skirt and a light purple blouse, some of the buttons left unbuttoned to display her natural assets. Blonde hair spilled in curls around her shoulders, framing her angular face.

In her hand, she held a neon pink sticky note. "Mokuba called and told me to tell you that he is staying late for soccer practice." She paused for reply, but when she did not receive one she continued on with her announcements.

"I'm going to go on my lunch break, do you want something?" From the corner of my eye, I watched as she leaned against the doorway, crossing her ankles in the process.

"No." She brushed off my monosyllable reply as she closed door behind her, leaving me alone with my endless work.

X-x-X

Each moment the clock ticked along, counting the moments and tracking the time humans would surely forget. My fingers typed at the keyboard as a pianist might strike a piano, each click similar to a note. The clicks formed together, just like notes would on a sheet of music, creating a symphony of sound.

As the hours wore on, so did my eyes and fingers and I could almost say with some level of distaste that I was somewhat relieved to see the clock strike three. Verifying the time, I powered down my laptop; gently folding it and placing it into my briefcase. After I had checked that everything was in place, I turned off the lights.

While travelling through the lobby, my secretary flagged me down with her neon pink acrylic nails.

"Mr. Lector told me to tell you he would like to talk to you before you leave." I nodded my head in acknowledgement. Without missing a beat, she turned around and disappeared up the stairs.

The hallways were bare, my footsteps echoed like drums of thunder as I navigated through the familiar corridors. Ten minutes later, I arrived at a door with a gilded sign stating Jonathon Lector. Ignoring all rules of etiquette, I opened the door.

The windows were shut to a tight close and the room was covered in shades of grays. Lector sat behind his large oak desk surrounded by several piles of business documents. His square glasses adorned the bridge of his nose, making his narrow eyes appear closer together.

"What do you want?" My demand instantly caught his attention for he immediately changed his focus to me. Taking a moment to take in the situation, he placed his pen on his desk and removed his glasses.

"What are your plans for this company?" He questioned bluntly as he tried to question me with his mundane brown eyes.

"That I nothing of your concern but if you must insist, I assure they will only bring success to this company." I could tell this answer irritated him because in reaction he furrowed his eyebrows and tightened his mouth into a frown.

"Seto, you know I am faithful employee. I have been working for Kaiba Corp since your father started-" He was interrupted by the clearing of my throat.

"You're all so cryptic today. Did you all drink the office's coffee this morning?" He tried to speak once more but once again, I interrupted him. "If you need anything please inform me in full details tomorrow."

Speechless, I closed the door on his agitated face, my footsteps echoing behind me.

X-x-X

I sunk easily into the cushions of my pearl coach, a newspaper held firmly in my hands. Carefully I read the articles of interest, occasionally turning the page to the next section or to find a continued story.

Midnight was displayed on the face of the clock. From the windows, moonlight spilled in rolling waves, illuminating the barren room. A velvet sky of black hid the greenery of the yard.

As I was finishing my last article of the night, preparing to fall into a short slumber, the shrill ringing of my cell phone reawakened my senses. Annoyed, I grabbed for the loud ringing contraption, pressing the talk button and placing it by my ear.

"You have ten seconds to tell me why you called at this ungodly hour."

"Mr. Kaiba…" The heavy breathing ghosted over my hearing, the familiar tenor strained with panic. It was my chauffer, whom I had dismissed hours ago.

"I think I just ran over someone." His voice, strained before, had completely become broking in its syllables, fear distorting his words.

"Did you call 911?" A whimper fell out of his mouth, the faint rumble of the engine echoed in the back drop.

"Yes." With a calm mind, I searched for my second cell phone. "Were you able to tell them where you are?"

He hesitated for a moment but I learned this was because he was getting out of the car. "Yes."

"Is the person bleeding?" I could hear the crackling of footsteps against the pavement.

"Yes." _Shit. _That was the only thought running through my mind.

"See if you can stop the bleeding by pressing on the wounds with a cloth of some sort-" As I was going to rattle off more medical advice I had collected over the years from doctor visits, my chauffer interrupted me.

"Mr. Kaiba, I think I ran over Kisara."


	6. Chapter 6

**Check profile for disclaimer. **

**Chapter 6**

_"Mr. Kaiba, I think I ran over Kisara."_

_Kaiba_

For a split second, I thought my heart had come to a complete stop. As her name fell from my panicked chauffer, I remembered the sweet notes of her voice as she introduced herself, the rustling of her dress against my pant leg as weaved around the Christmas tree.

"Where are you?" It took a couple minutes and several breathing techniques, but I managed to calm the man enough so he could give me the information.

"After I hang up, call 911 and do _not_ move her." With his affirmative reply, I ended the call. Shoving the device into my jeans, I grabbed my keys from the table, her sapphire eyes haunting my every thought.

X-x-X

_5:30. 5:31. 5:32. _

_He had been awake for two hours, slowly counting the minutes that had passed, remembering every shallow breath of his sleeping brother. _

_Tonight had been another night. Lately he had been plagued with nightmares, the same dream that left him in a cold sweat with wet burning tears scorching his cheeks. _

_It was always the same dream, the same haunting figure of his mother. She stood before him, ethereal in her flowing knee length skirt and light blue blouse, cinnamon locks resting on her shoulder like a halo. Worn on her beautiful but aged face was a smile that was blessed from heaven itself, warm enough to melt even the coldest heart. _

_But before he could call out to her, before he could extend his reach, she turned away. He cried for her, screaming for her with desperation but as soon as he was close enough to touch her, she disappeared._

_Was mom going to leave them? As much as hated to admit it, he noticed something strange between mom and dad, something they would probably hide from him if he asked. _

_From within the hollow silence, he heard the fluttering of sound. It was faint, barely recognizable, but as he focused on the noise more, it resembled talking._

_Sure Mokuba was asleep; he slid out from under the safety of the covers, tiptoeing quietly down the hall. His search lead him to the living room; the TV's light casting a pool, his dad's face illuminated by the dancing shadows. _

_It only took his dad a moment to realize he had a visitor, concern evident in his eyes when he identified the silent intruder. _

"_Why aren't you in bed?" His tone was curious with no accusing accents. _

"_Can't sleep." His dad's eyes crinkled in understanding. Wordlessly, he gestured for his son to sit by him, which Seto did without protest. _

"_Around midnight, Xeraphina Kaiba was found dead in her residence. The cause of her death is still unknown but there have been rumors of domestic abuse. Her daughter, Kisara, was found on Willow Street, two blocks away from the Kaiba residence and was taken by police to the station for safety issues. Gozaburo has yet to be found, and it is unknown if the polie will launch an investigation against the Collins corp. CEO." _

_As the news reporter's indifferent voice continued to drone on facts about her life, career and marriage, a picture of a beautiful white haired woman was displayed on the screen. Her hair was structured into a tight bun, a warm heavenly smile made her face glow as she kept her arms firmly wrapped around her daughter, who gazed curiously into the camera. _

"_No." The soft almost inaudible whisper tickled his hearing, and automatically his gaze turned to its source, his father. Despair was all he could see in those depths, a sadness so deep and a pain so strong that for a second he thought heard his father's heart break. _

"_Did you know her Dad?" His father's eyes stayed glued to the screen for one more moment, before he turned to his son._

"_Yes, she was a friend of mine in college." Seto glanced once more at the smiling woman, memorized by her blue topaz irises that seemed to shine with a quality he couldn't name. Then, he trained his focus on his father whose shoulders during that brief moment had tensed with a trembling rage._

"_She is-" He quickly caught his mistake and corrected himself, "She was the most loving person I knew." _

_They remained this way, side by side on the coach, listening to Xeraphina's story until the end and then staying to watch the other reports until early in the morning. Sometime during the night, Seto swore he saw a tear run down his father's cheeky but brushed it off as a figment of his imagination. _

X-x-X

When I arrived, the doors of the ambulance had just closed. It was only the smallest glimpse but it put my conscious to ease to the see the scuffed soles of her silver flats.

_She's still alive. _I fleetingly thought as I focused my attention to my chauffer. He was pale, eyes slightly bulging, and it seemed every minute he swallowed he was preparing to drop dead.

Everything in him coiled, from back to neck, all his muscles tightened and he nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned his frantic eyes toward me.

"Oh Mr. Kaiba, I didn't know you came." His eyes only left the ambulance for a second to acknowledge me then concentrated on its fast fleeting silhouette.

"What happened?" I asked irritated as I noticed for the first time where my black Rolls-Royce had been folded into a scratched, dented and folded mess.

"Sir, I am going to have to ask you to step over the line. This is an accident scene and we would like all bystanders to leave away from the area so we can complete our work." The officer was average height, around five foot ten and in relatively good health for an occupation known for its love of fattening donuts.

Once I completed my short examination, I returned my attentions to my chauffer who was fidgeting under the EMT's piercing examination, glancing into the deadened street where the ambulance had disappeared.

As I was going to continue my questioning, I was once more interrupted by the "kind" defender of justice.

"Sir, as I was saying, this is an accident scene and bystanders are not allowed."

Before my chauffeur could interpose himself in our conversation, I turned my head to the side, eyes narrowed in aggravation.

"I do not think you understand how intricately tied to this incident I am, Mr.—".

"Hill."

"Hill. Rowland is my employee and if he is charged with any crime he will have to use his salary, my money, to afford an attorney. I would rather like to know what my money is being spent on and there is the little fact that car currently halfway through the wall is owned legally by me."

The man, ready to speak, was probably going to repeat the same warning when my chauffer stated "Mr. Hill this is my employer, Seto Kaiba."

Recognition finally dawned on the man's one tracked mind. Silently, he retreated without another word, only to appear by the side of another cop. They whispered a mile a minute to each other, animated hand gestures adding a touch of hostility and strain. Next to me, Rowland's nervous gaze was shifting from place to place his panic once more remembered.

Tonight was going to be long, _sleepless _night.

X-x-X

I was allowed to call and arrange for one of the more trustworthy maids to stay with Mokuba until I returned, before they had guided me into their interrogation room.

"Mr. Kaiba, how is it you are related to this case." My appreciation for my self-control had grown as I resisted the urge to raise my eyebrow at the incredulous question. I had no doubt that she had been briefed on the case before this line of questioning had begun but I held my biting comments.

"I am Rowland's employer."

"And what is Mr. Rowland's job exactly?"

"He is my chauffer." My reply was returned with an owlish blink of disbelief before the detective continued her inquiries.

"Mr. Kaiba do you know what Mr. Rowland was doing at midnight driving in _your _vehicle?"

"He was driving back to my estate."

"And where was Mr. Rowland driving from?"

With my eyes narrowed, I stared directly into hardened amber irises. "I do not feel the need to know where my employee is every second of the day, Miss Bear."

She pulled out the chair across from me, straddling the seat with her slender muscular thighs, and folded her arms across the edge. "But I can't help but find it _odd_ that a man of your status would just let someone drive your car without even knowing where they were going? Especially an expensive car like a Roll-Royce. Aren't they worth four hundred grand now?"

_Clever woman_, I thought to myself before replying to her question. "Rowland has been my employee since I had inherited my company. He lives two houses across from mine and the man can't lie to his wife."

Her eyes flashed with an impressed glint for an infinitesimal second before her determination returned her expression to its previous focused façade. "Have you ever seen Mr. Rowland and the victim together?"

"Kisara." I quickly corrected. This only rewarded me with confusion, her dark eyebrows drawn tight and her pink full lips stretched into a slight purse.

"Beg your pardon?" She inquired. Her authoritarian tone had melted away, leaving only the soft inflected notes.

"Her name is Kisara." I repeated, my patience waning thin. "And from my knowledge, I do not even believe the two were acquainted."

Hovering on her tongue, I could see the questions she wanted to ask, questions I doubted having to do with the case and more with my personal life, but she wisely chose not to ask.

"You can leave Mr. Kaiba. Thank you for your time and we hope you have a good evening."

X-x-X

_Rowland _

Grey washed out concrete. Rusted silver handle with dusty fingerprints. I wonder how many walked through that door, sick with apprehension and a twisted stomach, their thoughts running a mile a minute. Did they think of the gray looming entrance as the border of freedom and hell or as the finial decider in their fate?

I wiped my sweaty palms against my pant leg, digging my twitching fingers into my knees, my gaze flickering from corner to corner.

Brutes for men circled around the table, piercing eyes glaring as if they could see into my very soul. It was possible. They ruined the very lives of men and destroyed families. Who was to say they weren't the devil's minions.

"You really don't have anything to say?" One man asked. His gruff tenor was deep, a hint of contempt hinted at the atrocities he had seen.

I remained silent. I didn't trust myself to speak without becoming an unnecessary martyr.

There was a knock on the window though the black tint concealed the person from view. Grumbling, one of the men disappeared behind the gate of freedom or hell. My hands trembled causing my knees to shake. Focused, the remaining man glared daggers into my soul, my cowardliness took control and I looked everywhere but at him.

It had only been minutes but if felt like slow hours, every second counted so meticulously by the ticking clock, each movement of the hand coming closer to my hour of judgment. The man returned, solemn and furious, and hesitatingly told me that I was free to go.

Relief filled my entire soul, straining against the walls of my heart and mind until I felt like I was going to burst. I found it difficult to reign in my desire to run from the grey ashen stone hell hole.

I had not been out for a couple minutes when my cell phone rang. I was sorely tempted to let it ring, but when it was a possibility it could be my wife I answered it.

"Hello."

"Where were you?" The voice beyond the metal device was distant, cold in its tenor with a firm pronunciation of his syllables.

"My wife was going to visit one of her old college roommates but my car was in the shop. I had to borrow Kaiba's."

A dark mocking chuckle echoed from my cell phone. "That woman has you wrapped around her little finger."

Before his speech could continue, I ended the conversation. "Have a good night, Mr. Collins." To bring some finality, I pressed the end button, watching as the screen faded away.

**Author's Notes: I can't believe that I missed such a plot twist. For those who read the original I hope you will enjoy this little journey I will take you on. I am now going to go on a much different road the what I did for my original story. So please, review. I am curious to know what everyone thoughts are, especially those who read my unrevised version**


	7. Chapter 7

**Check profile for disclaimer. **

**Chapter 7**

_Monday_

_Kaiba _

An empty hospital lobby greeted us in silence. Chairs were unoccupied, lacking their usual grief stricken visitors as we passed by the identical long rows.

Since we had reached the hospital doors, Rowland paled considerably. Under the unflattering lightening of the hospital, however, it was worse than I had believed. He was like a phantom, devoid of all livening color. If it weren't for his heavy treading footsteps I might have believed he was just a ghostly mourner accompanying me.

We were greeted by a sleepy secretary at the front desk, her feet propped on the counter as she leaned stiffly into the back of her desk chair. It was obvious to see she was not expecting _anyone_ so early in the morning. At the echoing sound of the desk bell, she awoke immediately, rolling out the chair into an ungraceful pile on the floor.

Wordlessly, we watched as she raised herself from the ground in mortification. A sheepish grin twisted her lips as she mumbled complaints and threats about her superiors who had ordered her to take this graveyard shift. After fixing her appearance so she was at least _presentable_, she turned to us with a vehement smile, her gaze alternating from me to Rowland.

There was a gleam of recognition in her irises as she studied my chauffer but it quickly perished when embarrassed brown eyes turned toward me. "How can I help you this morning gentleman?" Her smooth tenor was strained, an emphasis accented morning in aversion.

"What room is Kisara in?" Rowland inquired, his tone reaching a paralyzing indifference that _almost_ rivaled mine. Annoyance highlighted her muted irises as she turned to Rowland with a slight glare.

"Do you know her last name?"

"I am afraid not." Once more she started her irritated mumbled rant as she searched through the hospital's data base.

"There was a Kisara admitted into the hospital three nights ago…" There was a momentary pause as she continued to scan the screen, "She is in room 212." She exclaimed, turning her attention to us once more.

With silent nods, we thanked her. As we were about to leave the desk to find the elevator, she halted our descent.

"Tell Helen I said hello."

Rowland's visage developed into a grim snarl. "I will. Thank you."

X-x-X

_His small frame easily slipped through entrance door, a backpack swung precariously over his shoulder. Today, his dad had promised to take him and Mokuba to the zoo. To say he was excited was an understatement. All week in school, that's all he would ever talk about. He annoyed his teacher enough that she developed lesson plan to teach about the different animals which could be found at the zoo. _

_But first, he had to put his backpack away, which is why they were making a quick stop at the house. _

_As he was passing his parent's bedroom, (his and unofficially Mokuba's room was at the end of the hall) he heard the floating question, "Where is your husband?" Who was that, Seto wondered. He did not recognize the voice as one of his parent's clients or a relative (he was quick to brag he remembered all of his parent's relatives and clients names and even their stocks). And why was he asking about dad?_

_Curiosity brought Seto to halt at his parent's bedroom door. With the skill of a spy, he opened the door, not far enough out to cause suspicion, but enough he could see the shadowed silhouettes of two figures by the window. One for certain he knew was his mother, but all he could decipher about the other occupant was he was male. _

"_He is taking the boys to the zoo." His mother placed her hands on the mysterious man's chest. "We have the house _all_ to ourselves."_

_There was something funny about the way she said her last sentence. Her voice became really low and it had this weird sound to it. It wasn't like her attention seeking voice she used to bring people closer to her but that's exactly how the man reacted. _

"_What a delightful proposition." Then, the man kissed his mother. _

_He had heard of a kiss, even some girls had tried to give him one. But everyone had told him that a kiss was only to be shared with a mother and father. So why was mom kissing the man back? Why didn't she push him off? _

_Feeling unreasonably betrayed, Seto quickly ran to his room. He tossed his backpack unceremoniously on the bed and ran out of the house as fast as he could. He didn't care if they heard him. In fact, he hoped they heard him so his mother might be embarrassed and make the man go home. _

_When his dad had asked him what the matter was, he lied. He claimed he was fine but his brother and father knew otherwise. Seto didn't know what was going on with mom and the man, but he would follow his teacher's advice and let her figure it out until she was ready to talk about it. _

X-x-X

During our short journey through the maze of lifeless hallways, I did not question Rowland about the secretary's comment. I had _known_ that his wife's health had declined over the years, but I had no _inclination_ it was to the point they were visiting the hospital so much the secretaries could recognize him.

Our destination was a white wooden door with a nailed blue plaque carved with the number 212. Since it was Rowland who had wanted to visit her, I waited for him to knock and announce our presence. However, one glance at him was enough to dispel _those_ thoughts.

At my raspy knock, a weak "come in" echoed back. Permission granted, I opened the door to a width I could enter easily but still obscure the bloody coward I called my chauffeur until he had gained the courage to enter.

In the center of the room she laid rigidly, looking as if death had narrowly passed her door. Her skin lacked its creamy luster; instead it was an ashen blotched grey. Expect for her nose, which was the unsightly shade of irritated red, a neon sign she had developed a cold. Shadows highlighted her gaunt cheeks, while her frail arms lay motionless against the sheets. Her broken ankle lay in visible sight; unblemished gaze covered her injury from toes to mid calf.

A fire brought clarity to her veiled eyes at the sight of my tall frame while her lips simultaneously tried to twist into her easy smile. Instead of her usual seductive grin, the result was strained pursed line, a rather pitiful spectacle.

"Mr. Kaiba-" Whatever statement she was about to convey was silenced by Rowland's brief flare of bravery as he entered the room. However, he was quick to return to his infuriating cowardly self when he saw the rather frightening state Kisara was in.

"And you must be Mr. Jones." A sweet quality highlighted her voice like the clear notes of an organ. There was truly no anger in her voice and neither was there any hatred. Instead, all I could find was a deep sense of empathy.

"You shouldn't be in here." It seemed Rowland's conscious had come crashing down on him. Either that or his mental state was starting to rapidly deteriorate from his own guilt. Whatever the case may be, it probably wasn't a terrible idea to look over his retirement plan tonight.

"I beg your pardon?" Her smile turned into an exasperated sigh but the moronic idiot, whom I regrettably had to call my employee, was unaware of her growing aggravation.

"If I had only swerved a little farther-" Her curt cough nearly shocked Rowland into a coronary; nonetheless, it had accomplished its purpose. Rowland's nervous eyes were only concentrated on her.

"Mr. Jones, if you have come here to apologize, I will have to ask you to leave. Please don't take any offense but I am afraid I neither have the time nor the energy to waste debating on whom is to blame. It is very clear to see I am at fault because I was the one in the middle of the street while you risked your own life to save me."

Any arguments in which Rowland possessed were instantly silenced by Kisara's hardened glare. It was impressive. That is for a tiny teenage girl.

"What did they say?" I inquired, nodding my head toward the injury in which was the source of all this mentally damaging guilt.

The question came as relief to the two. Kisara could now escape from a conversation she desperately wanted to avoid and Rowland could escape her biting harshness.

"I have a partially torn ligament, five metatarsal bones with simple fractures first degree burns, a concussion and the flu. They said overall I will have to remain in the hospital for the rest of the week. Because of my cold, they are worried my immune system has become extremely weak and they want to make sure I don't catch any infections-"

As Kisara counted of her many injuries, it appeared Rowland's nerves had handled their amount of damage for the day. He looked as if he was brink of having a seizure before he stormed out of the room, leaving whatever dignity he _had_ possessed, behind.

The door trembled in its frame for a good minute before it came to a halt. It wasn't until then Kisara decided to speak, her gaze sympathetic.

"Can you please tell him I really do forgive him?" Her pleading eyes would have broken the coldest of businessmen, I quietly regarded as I nodded in reply. She seemed to believe my non verbal answer for she did not question it; or rather she quit talking all together.

In her silence, I internally debated if I should leave or torture myself, for the few extra minutes I have before I have to pick up Mokuba, trying to strike up a conversation.

What was I doing? If this were anyone else, I would have left immediately upon arrival and she was no exception.

"_I was the one in the middle of the street." _

"Why were you in the middle of the road?" There it was. That sad gleam haunting her eyes was the source of interest. I had seen people grief stricken by death and addicts before but few earned my sympathy. But she was a novelty. A new game to master. A puzzle to form. A mystery, I decided I was going to solve.

"I was getting my mother's locket that I accidently kicked in the street." I wanted to believe her. Truly, I did. However, I could see there was an underline issue behind her moronic actions.

"You were wearing a dress." Her incredulous expression was one of amusement. With her half furrowed, half raised eyebrows she resembled a deformed primate who was trying to think.

"What do my wardrobe choices have to do with this?" Subtly, I leaned against doorway. Her eyes followed my every movement with disguised lust, something I found very aphoristic.

"It didn't have any pockets so if you had your mother's locket you would have to either wear it or carry it. And when I met you at the lake, you had nothing with you."

Truth always had a nasty habit of derailing a person just as they were about to hit the bottom. And now it seemed the truth was doing just that to Kisara. Immobilized by her leg, she twisted her fingers into the blanket, her breaths became harsh intakes.

"You were trying to kill yourself, weren't you?" Ocean irises narrowed in fury as she looked at me with outright hatred, a tight frown marred her elegant features.

"Please leave. I am very tired and I would like to sleep now."

It was apparent I had said the wrong thing. Still, I had two options. I could push the matter, and lose whatever trust she had in me, or let the matter go entirely by following her request and leaving.

Like any good business man, I chose the option which granted me another opportunity. Besides, I had work to finish and I couldn't allow my fellow business partners more evidence to illustrate their point that I was becoming incompetent.

X-x-X

_Kisara_

How is it that man could so easily crawl under my skin! _Just_ as I was beginning to sort through my feelings and thoughts, _he_ comes sauntering in, looking so good it should be illegal, with his jumping conclusions. Really, men like him _should_ be illegal or in least thrown into jail for a year or two to scruff them up a bit.

I was pulled away from my ricocheting thoughts by another rasping knock.

"Come in." At a slow torturous pace, the door opened. I only knew one nurse who could open a door _that_ slowly… "Agnes, is that you?

"No." A deep gruff tenor echoed back as the mysterious person stepped into the room.

"Father, what a lovely surprise."

X-x-X

Whoever is credited for the spelling of assume, they are a brilliant genius. Not only have they created a word that should never be used but they unknowingly conveyed an important life lesson in one clever word. Never assume because you make an ass outt of you and me.

It was obvious my father did _not _enjoy being called a grouchy, half bent, older woman, which is why I am now searching as inconspicuously as possible for the little remote to call a nurse.

"Why was Seto Kaiba here?" Sometimes I _really_ wished my father was a beat around the bush kind of man. Not only would it save me from having to discuss some subjects, which needed to be left in the dark, but it would also ease his suspicions. At this point, however, it probably wouldn't make a difference.

"He was accompanying Mr. Jones. Mr. Jones wanted to apologize for causing my injuries."

If there is one thing I am confident in my understanding, it is of my father's facial expressions. Ever since I was a child, it was ingrained in my memory pursed lips were the equivalent of a bad day at work and slightly crossed eyes were a sign of creeping aggravation.

Never before had I seen this expression. When I mentioned Mr. Jones, father's lips formed into this crooked line, his eyebrows retracted downward and his eyes widened as if he recognized something.

"Who gave you the books?" The inquiry brought my intention to a certain tethering pile of thick books on the window seal. This was strange to say the least. My father was never one to change a subject evasively. Especially, not when the subject was concerning Seto Kaiba.

"Jordan offered to provide me free tutoring lessons. She worried since I am going to be out of school for such a long time my grades will fall."

"Who is Jordan's father?" _Please come quickly, _I silently begged as I continued to press the call button on the remote.

"Gregory Wyndham" A grin almost consumed my father face at the sound of my indirect connection to the famous British CEO who had taken the England under his control.

Ever since I was a child, my father controlled who I associated with. Actually, it would be more accurate to say who I didn't associate with. If my friends parent's didn't make a six figure income and hold an important position in politics, business and other major fields, the consequences of him seeing me with them were less than pretty to say the least.

My father's next statement was interrupted by a frustrated young nurse who appeared more than willing to kill the next person who requested her help. As she was preparing to relieve her frustrations on me, she noticed the oh so large elephant in the room.

"Mr. Gozaburo." The irritation in her features slowly shifted to a broad smile. "I didn't see you there. I just came to check on your daughter." My father easily saw through her pretentious lies. Instead of discussing the matter directly, he seemingly let it slide.

"I hope my daughter is getting the best possible care." Her relief was so detectable but if I were her, I would have been on the edge. Because when my father lets things slide, it directly translates into him skipping over possible solutions and going directly to the source of the problem and _killing _it immediately.

"Of course, sir." Having accomplished whatever mysterious agendas he had, my father exited the room and I knew a brief stop to the hospital's administrator was in the program.

Thinking she was free to leave, the nurse tried to escape but I stopped her.

"Can I please have a glass of water?"

**Author's Notes: Please before anyone starts planning my funeral, I must mention I am sorry. Life has had a nasty habit lately of keeping me tired. Add that to writer's block and you get delayed updates. So my dear readers, if you are reviewing, I would like to know if you think my Seto Kaiba is fairily IC? Also I would like to say according the the anime, there is about a five or six year difference in age between Seto and Mokuba. Not knowing this when I started writing this story several years ago they is a ten year age difference in my fanfiction. Since I am too lazy to go back and write Mokuba with a more mature persona I am letting it slide. **

**FYI:**

**I learned today Kaiba had green hair originally. Please look on Google for a picture. Let's just say you will feel better after seeing it.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Check profile for disclaimer. **

**Chapter 8**

_Two young, very anxious boys exchanged a nervous glance. _

"_Go." Mokuba encouraged his older brother Seto, whom was being uncharacteristically hesitant. _

"_She's still typing." Seto rebutted, which only earned him an "are you serious" expression. As his little brother was going to respond, a wandering thought crossed through Mokuba's eyes. Immediately, his brother developed a wicked grin and a mischievous glint._

"_You're scared." Mokuba proclaimed with all the arrogance of a celebrity. Seto had tried his best to conceal his fears from his brother over the years, but now that he was facing the "elephant" in the room his reluctance could not help but show._

"_I am not." He responded with shaky confidence, which only made his brother grin wider. _

"_Yes, you are." The instigation slapped Seto's pride. With a stubborn glare, he recklessly marched away from the corner he had been hiding in, his fears momentarily forgotten. _

_Adrenaline supported his steady, quick pace, but as it began to simmer down, his steps became slow and shaky. Uniformly, his heels touched the carpet before his foot came in full contact with the floor in futile effort to delay the anticipated confrontation. However, despite his slow pace, Seto arrived to his destination quicker than he liked._

_His mother tapped her heels against the floor in rhythm to her typing when Seto stopped in front of her. She only acted out on this habit when she was annoyed or on the rare occasion when she was nervous. _

"_Mother." This was enough to gain her attention for the shortest of seconds before her focus was once more directed to her phone by the alerting sirens which informed her she had another text message. _

_As _encouraging_ as that response was, Seto decided to go through his plan. (However, this was mostly due to the "cat ate the canary" grin on his little brother's devilish face.) _

"_Are you going to the zoo with us next Friday?" _

Finally_, he had said something to gain her full undivided attention! However, he was beginning to doubt if he _really _wanted her full awareness as her sharp irises regarded him with a questioning glare. It seemed distant now, but Seto could remember a time when his mother's eyes were the shade of warm cinnamon. A time, he distinctly remembered, when he could crawl into her arms, and she would whisper long winded fairy tales in his ear._

_Slowly, one minute ticked away on the clock before his mother inevitably shifted her focus back to her precious phone. _

"_No, Seto." He waited for the standard excuses; "I am too busy" or "I am working on a new line that has to be done by next week". This time, he only received a silent rejection. _

_Unlike how he came, Seto practically ran away from his mother. For the next couple hours, he played chess with his brother to decompress his anger. Slowly, the day melted away to night but Seto found his fury had lingered. After their father had made sure they were in bed, he had tried to fall asleep but found the task difficult. When nature called, Seto quietly snuck out of bed to go to the bathroom careful to make sure he did not wake up Mokuba. Ten minutes later, he was found by his father, curled in the corner of the bathroom with tear stain trails on his cheeks. _

_Seto would never tell his brother of that night but he instinctually knew that the memory of his father's awkward but comforting hugs and tentative rubs would haunt him till the day he died. _

X-x-X

_Wednesday_

_Kaiba _

I hate interruptions. When I was fourteen, I was forced to learn how to block any "distractions" which might direct my attention away from work. In result, I had developed an effective method to barricade anything which might tempt me, not only in work but in my life. That is until I met Kisara.

Apparently, fate was enjoying throwing unpredictable "distractions" into my life because my newest disruption came in the package of a nervous, vivacious brunette in heels.

The only way to accurately describe this woman was bouncy, from her full sized breast to her twitchy fingers all the way down to her tapping feet. In almost complete harmony, she flinched every time the clock emitted its familiar click to warn those in the room a second had passed.

At first I tried to ignore her, but it seemed my uninvited guest had different plans.

"Do you know where Martha is?" Apparently, the woman is also oblivious. Ever since Martha started working here, I had assigned her to create a little flyer to put out on her desk warning she was on lunch break so I could avoid disturbances like these. However, this woman seemed to be blind to that little sign and thought it was a good idea to march in here and disturb me from my work.

"She is out on her lunch break." I simply answered, praying the woman would disappear.

"When will she be back?" Her lack of observatory skill was balanced by her preservation apparently. Inwardly sighing, I assessed her frame once more, quickly noting she was a secretary. The signs were blaringly obvious. Tight pencil skirt. Silk blouse. Manipulated curled hair. She might as well tattoo her occupation on her forehead.

I glanced at the clock to gather the necessary information to answer the pestering woman's question; it was twelve thirty. "She will return in an hour."

Now normal people would have thanked me for informing them on what they needed to know and would have left. She apparently wasn't normal because she started to tell me why she needed my secretary. While it varies from person to person, I assumed the staff here knew I was not particularly fond of having my work interrupted.

"…ce her favorite restaurant is close to the hospital, I was hoping she could deliver the flowers to Kisara…" So she was a friend of Kisara's. That explained why she was a little off the beaten trail. Who was she anyway? I didn't remember hiring her nor did I have any recollection of seeing her in the building.

"Put the flowers on her desk and write her note." I explained. As I was about to begin focusing on my work, I heard the slam of a closed door. Relived of the responsibility of having to maintain a conversation, I was about to launch myself into work again when I heard her garrulous buzzing.

"I know this won't matter to you but I don't know who else to tell." Begrudgingly, I watched as she sat in the chair in front of my desk.

"Kisara and I aren't the greatest of friends. I mean it's not like she has been rude or impolite but she is very… distance. Which, to tell you the truth, is not very surprising. Our fathers practically _forced _us to be friends and I guess she is trying to make sure her father doesn't take advantage of me."

_Finally_, the woman decided to _breathe_. Thought out her long winded speech, her hands were rotating three hundred sixty degrees every minute and I was afraid if I were to watch any longer I would develop a seizure.

"I guess I should get straight to the point." She dramatically inhaled. "I am not the one sending Kisara the flowers or giving her the tutoring lessons."

Manicured nails dug into the arm rests' cushion, and coupled with her previous movements, I was tempted to call security to throw her out. "It's her best friend. She apparently wants to make a big entrance so she doesn't want Kisara knowing she is the one sending the gifts." If the woman was perspective, she would have noticed the minute tremor in my typing. However, she was not, so she carried on as if I weren't sitting right across from her.

"I am assuming you don't know her personally so you might not understand how easily believable the excuse is." It took several minutes, but finally she noticed my typing had became louder, a sign she must have believed was due to agitation but really was a tactic to get rid of her.

"I see. I overstayed my visit." One pathetically hopeless stare and a theatrical sigh was what it took for her to realize she was not welcomed.

But by the time she reached the door, her large mouth had found the urge to say one more thing before she left.

"I know you weren't listening but thank you for not throwing me out." A sad smile twisted her rouge lips before she slipped past the door.

Women are strange these days.

X-x-X

At one o'clock I wanted to retrieve my gun from the drawer and shoot my computer. The stupid machinery had decided it wanted to drive me over the edge. By the time I finally managed to finish my report, the garrulous woman's words had changed my focus from work to the white hair demoness and her mysterious best friend.

Nonetheless, I still had thirty minutes before my secretary returned from her lunch break. Silently, I contemplated the temptation to leave the building for an hour before I came to a conclusion whatever work I was going to finish would need to redone. Besides, I had the distracting problem of Kisara and what better way to kill a problem but by going to the source.

As I was placing the work I needed to be filed on Martha's desk, I saw two large objects: a sign and a glass vase filled with lilies.

That stupid woman. The sign was in plain sight, practically glaring me in face. The only way she could have missed it if she was blind.

Returning my thoughts back to lunch, I was once more distracted. This time by a dozen or so expertly placed white lilies. The tips of the elongated petals curled to the rim of the vase while a neatly scribbled note rested beside it.

I was seriously going to contemplate whether I should bring the flowers to the hospital. That is until I noticed how ridiculous I was acting. I wasn't trying to woe Kisara like some lovesick puppy; I was just trying to find out why she tried to commit suicide.

However, there was the fact I had seriously annoyed her during my visit two days go, and a cordial gesture might ensure she didn't kick me out of the room.

With a quick study, I checked the area for any curious bystanders as I grabbed the flowers. Tucking the vase against my side, I casually strode to the elevator, entered the empty space and left without anyone seeing what I had done.

X-x-X

It seems fate was starting to pity me for they were allowing me a small victory. The bouncy secretary's name, I learned by my private detective, is Jordan Wyndham, 18 years old and currently attending her final year at British International School of New York. In 2008, Crump interviewed and accepted her for the open secretary position. (Over the past five years, Crump has had more sexual harassment charges filed by past secretaries than in the history of the entire company since it was established by my grandfather.)

All rather uninteresting, easily findable information until my private detective actually told me something worth giving my attention to. This Jordan woman worked part time and weekends at Mai Grant Minutia warehouse as a seamstress.

It was not far stretch to say Jordan applied for the open secretary position under the pressure of Minutia. For years, Minutia had proved herself to be a crazy obsessed fan and I would not have put it past her to develop such a juvenile ploy. And certainly with the rumors circulating in the media about myself and Kisara, Minutia had to be consumed with jealously.

As I had approached the revolving doors of the hospital, I pushed my suspicions to the side, trying to focus on the matter at hand. When I reached the lobby, it became very apparent I was not alone. It was obvious to tell who was coming here for the first time and who had been here too many times to count. The new "grievers" filled the lobby with their pitiful cries and desperate whispering hopes while the regular visitors peered at the scene from dark corners, shadows concealing their ashen faces.

The greeting secretary was wide awake this time and as welcoming as any hospital secretary I have seen.

"Who are you visiting sir?"

"Kisara. Room 212." With practiced movements, she handed me an identity bracelet. As I slipped it on, I recalled the previous secretary from our earlier visit had failed to give us one most likely, due to her lack of sleep.

I gave her an acknowledging nod and headed toward the elevators. No one was waiting when I arrived and I was alone when I stepped into the contraption. After pressing floor two, I waited about a minute before the machine came to a jerky stop and quietly exited.

It was not a particularly difficult challenge for me to navigate through the hospital despite the fact these dismal hallways all appeared to be the same.

"What did she complain about this time?" The question drifted from a slightly open door. I could see two nurses in bright blue scrubs; one was sitting behind a desk and the other was standing in front of the desk with her arms crossed.

"It wasn't Kisara. It was her father." It was easy to see the nurse sitting behind the desk was agitated and didn't have the energy to fight with particularly snarky younger nurse.

"So poor little rich girl doesn't get what she wants and she goes crying to _big bad_ daddy. And when daddy threatens to stop funding the hospital they do what he wants. " I mentally added vindictive to the list.

"I'm afraid you're wrong. I _wished_ she had complained, especially when my nurse chose to go smoke instead of giving her patient her pain medication."

"_That little bitch_!" Each word was punctuated with venomous hatred. "I have never done that. She is lying to you. " The computer screen was turned one hundred eight degrees. On the screen were two images. One image was of the snarky vindictive nurse dragging out her cigarette, while the other displayed a curled up Kisara, crying in obvious pain. The time stamp read 8:42 p.m.

"Last week, I received a complaint from a man who said you kicked him in the penis." As the nurse behind the desk was explaining the situation, she turned the computer screen back to its original position.

"He was drunk and trying to grab a feel." It seemed that excuses were another thing the snarky younger nurse didn't lack.

The nurse behind the desk had reached her limit, for she finally let go of control and lashed out at the vindictive younger nurse.

"The man was having a _stroke _and he was searching for _help!_ But you were concerned for _your _safety and are so taken by your carless prejudices you didn't care! Now here you are making excuses. Do you realize how close you came to _killing_ that man?"

The older nurse's conscious call didn't seem to affect the scowling younger woman and it only took a moment for the nurse behind the desk to come to this realization also.

"Finish your shift and come to collect your pay check tomorrow." The young, now unemployed nurse became murderous. I could practically taste the fowl accusations on her tongue.

"And I suggest for you next employment please chose an occupation in which does not deal with people." Like a bat out of hell, the young woman ran from the room whispering suspicious murmurs under her breath, while being completely oblivious to my presence.

The other nurse, on the other hand, was not. When my presence came to her notice, she waved with a smile but I could see all she wanted to do was drown in the bottle of wine hiding in her desk.

It seems Kisara is center of the universe. Somehow, everyone has a connection to her in some way and now so did I. The only question remaining at this point was if I was going to let it happen or not.

X-x-X

_Kisara_

The last thing I expected to see this afternoon was Mr. Kaiba, looking as if he just came from a model photo shoot, carrying a beautiful glass vase with picturesque lilies. In fact, he came as such a surprise I wasn't able to give him my usual fake greeting smile.

"Mr. Kaiba, what a pleasant _surprise_." How many times are these people going to surprise visit me? If this continued, I am going to have to come up with a better greeting.

He took my forced greeting as permission to enter the room to suavely place the flowers on the nightstand next to the bed. I predicted he was going to leave without another word but instead he settled himself in the empty bedside chair.

"What are the books for?" Those mesmerizing icy blue eyes thoroughly studied the titles printed on the books spines.

I wondered what it would be like to have those eyes studying me. Anyone else would have wanted to escape that particular fate due to the suffocating cold intensity those irises held. However, I couldn't help but imaging those very intense eyes studying me like I was a fascinating puzzle as he whispered to me in a husky tenor. It didn't even have to be naughty thoughts, (Though if what the rumors said were true, he had to have imagined some _wicked _fantasies over the past years.) because anything he would have said would have sent my heart into frenzy.

"My tutoring lesson. My friend Jordan hired a tutor for me so my grades don't drop while I am recovering."

I had gotten my wish; his undivided attention was focused only on me. I could see it. Remembering my rather _vivid_ dream from a couple weeks ago, I remembered the electrifying warmth of his fingertips. Sweet whispers invaded my hearing, those icy depths setting fire to a scorching heat deep inside me. I just prayed I wasn't blushing to red.

X-x-X

_Kaiba_

I couldn't understand this woman. One moment she looked like the epitome of liveliness with her soft smiles and glimmering ocean irises. The next second she was an ashen phantom looking as if she was hanging on the last of her sanity.

"Why are here?" And here was the question I wanted to avoid. If anything, this _woman_ (I was severely doubting if she was human or not) knew exactly what to ask that left my mind empty of any responses.

"Your friend is my business partner's secretary. She asked earlier this afternoon if my secretary would deliver the flowers to you."

Why was there always this look in her eyes like she _knew_ the truth? It was infuriating, to say the least, not mention a slight ego bruiser.

"What does that have to do with you?" There it was. She once more had that infuriating smirk which could twist my pride into sharp knots which poked at the lining of my stomach.

"My secretary has a nasty habit of finding excuses to get off work early, which I cannot afford right now." Her fleeting grin was noteworthy to say the least. Not quite condescending as her previous expressions but her expression gave the implication she had heard the complaint before.

Her sapphire irises shifted to the clock, blue eyes sadly observing as the time passed. One last clinging glance, she turned her focus to me, her expression so distant it would have made my secretary cry.

"My tutor will be coming soon and I need to study." Her message was clear enough. She not only wanted me gone but she wanted this to be my last visit. Ironically, I had been entertaining that thought. It was clear she was distraction I could not afford, especially with this pending deal I was negotiating with Pegasus. If anything, that man had built his reputation around his imperceptible, rather eccentric schemes and I didn't want to find myself caught in an inescapable trap all because I was love sick over a woman.

Without question, I lifted myself from the chair. One more scrutinizing glimpse told me a final good bye was occurring. I didn't need to fight the urge to study her one last time as so many romantic movies were fond of because I knew she was a permanent memory. Someone as odd as her would be difficult to forget.

"Thank you, Seto." I had allowed her long ago to use my first name and now she uses it when she wants me permanently erased from her life. Confusing little demoness.

I didn't question what she was thanking me for and frankly I didn't care. Today, I was going to cut off all ties with her and she would never be a distraction for me anymore.

**Author Notes: The British International School is a real school in New York and as previously mentioned in the last chapter, Jordan's father is a successful CEO in England. Also I would like to mention this. I am placing Domino City in the state of New York. It is never specified where Domino City is actually locate, whether in America or Japan. Since I do not know anything about the Japanese culture, it was easier for me to Domino in America. My Domino city is about 25 minutes to 30 minutes from New York City itself; however, it is often forgotten because of its proximity to the famous (or infamous) city.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Check profile for disclaimer. **

**Chapter 9**

_Thursday_

_Mai Minutia Grant_

Today was _supposed _to be a good day.

I just finished my new clothing line and tonight was the runway show. Much to my satisfaction, every ticket had been sold, which added a grand total of 37,500 to my severely depleted account. (This particular clothing line I had thrown my usual limits to the wind and decided to design, and spend, freely.) And that wasn't even including the money these rich bastards would throw at my feet just to _have_ one of my designs.

Besides my success (which was the perfect bitch slap to all those doomed my future from the start), I had another reason to be in a good mood. Kisara, the bane of my existence, had been absent from the media for days, which meant I no longer had to listen to the infuriating rumors about her and Kaiba.

That is until I walked into my erratic office this morning.

As usual, I was greeted by my flustered, stuttering secretary as she handed me my cup of black coffee. (If there was anything I hated more than that white hair freak it was sugary coffee) Then, I was briefed on the tasks which had to be done today before she dismissed herself to her desk. On stressful days like these, her stutter would become thicker than a native accent. It was almost indecipherable and I was beginning to wonder if I should fire her and hire a new male secretary. I had heard rumors that they worked better under pressure.

After my briefing, usually, I would head to my office to once more check all the technical factors (seating charts, money transactions, progress on the location site, calling my interior designer, etc.) but since the show was in a few short hours I decided to see how the fashion part of the show was doing. There were at least a million things which could go wrong. I often had models drop out at the last second, entire outfits ruined, and even the occasional incompetent makeup artist who couldn't understand a word I said.

As I approached the work area, I was assaulted by the noise of laborious work. The sewing machines were strumming in their fast paced rhythm as they worked to shape the limp fabric into form. Seamstresses busily sewed the little remaining details -zippers, buttons, hem lines- as they conversed a mile a minute. Then I heard the distant condescending drone of a female news reporter.

I saw red.

On the flat screen TV hanging on the wall there was the image of an indifferent, beautiful woman as she reported the news. My assistant, who was hunched over as she tried to fix a hemline, stood ram rod straight at the sound of the furious clicks of my heels.

With wide eyes, she turned toward me, nervously trembling. She had forgotten. I had _specifically_ told her the day I hired her that all my employees were strictly prohibited from watching the news or one of those irritating gossip shows. Nothing made my blood boil hotter than an incompetent worker and right now, I was nearly on fire.

My seamstress Jordan, my only employee who I bothered to go out of my way to remember her name, simply met my narrowed eyes with an amused smile. She knew about my assistant's error, and yet she didn't bother to fix it. The competitive bitch.

It was the nervous twitching of my assistant which brought my attention back to her. I was about ready to give her the lecture of a lifetime when the name of the white hair freak distracted my focus away.

"Kisara, whose whereabouts have been unknown for the past four days, was reported of having been checked in Lennox Hill Hospital late Sunday night after being run over on Regency Boulevard. The driver of the car, Rowland Jones, was taken to the police station along with his employer, Seto Kaiba, for questioning. Charges were not pressed. The two visited Kisara the next morning, and Wednesday afternoon, Kaiba visited her alone with flowers…"

The reporter's voice droned on and Jordan mysterious smile raised my suspicions. Abruptly, I faced my assistant whom was cowering in terror. Distracted by the more important problem at hand, I let her slide with a warning.

"Do it again and your fired." I then turned my attention to Jordan. "Jordan, see me in my office."

X-x-X

"I thought you said he had no interest in her." I questioned as she closed the door. Silently, she approached my desk before comfortably seating herself in an open chair.

She replied with an infuriating _tsk_ as she shook her heard in disagreement. "I never said that." She quickly clarified. "I said that I don't know if he _has _an interest in her."

"Him visiting her with flowers in the hospital isn't a sign for you?" I demanded trying to keep my lips from twisting into a pout.

She _tsk_ed once more, and I swore to myself if she did it again I was going to jump over this desk and strangle her. "The flowers are mine."

My raised eyebrow was more enough to compel her for an explanation. "Vivian came to me yesterday asking if I could deliver some flowers for Kisara. I knew you were getting restless so I decided to test out Kaiba's affection. Before my lunch break, I went to his office and asked him if his secretary could deliver the flowers for me. He told me to put them on her desk."

"So you're the one who turned the news? To see if he took the flowers or not." Even as I was starting to connect the puzzle pieces, I couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't telling me something.

She nonchalantly shrugged "It was a necessary risk."

My throat constricted as I tried to ask the question which had been plaguing my mind since I saw the two dancing at Pegasus's Christmas party. "So he really is interested her, isn't he?" My voice was a soft whisper, barely audible.

A grim smile curled her lips upward. "Yes, yes he is."

A long pregnant silence pursued before she decided to leave. With her features twisted into a grimace, she excused herself but not after getting the last word in.

"Mai…" I could see in her eyes she wanted to say something she felt was important, something that looked as if it had been bothering her for a while. But then she shook her head, as if trying to rid herself of a nagging thought, and said instead "Just be careful."

X-x-X

Jordan's words were haunting my mind, tainting my every thought with worry. What was her definition of careful anyway? Well whatever it was, I am pretty sure me going to visit Kisara was not considered "careful".

Despite the fact the hospital was fairly abandoned, it was about noon, I still disguised myself by tucking my hair into a hat and wearing sunglasses. My idea might not be considered careful but I would be damned if I got caught doing it.

The process of finding Kisara's room was easier than I thought. Go up to the receptionist, ask for Kisara's room, put on an id bracelet, get in the elevator, and then follow the signs. It was so easy it was almost sinfully; the only downside was I had to give the receptionist a name but I easily solved that problem by giving her a fake alias.

My only real dilemma appeared when I approached the door to the room Kisara was currently staying in. From behind the wooden surface, I could hear the echoing rustle of thick pages and the cadence of soft breathing.

What was I doing? If I was caught the media would be all over this like a hound to fox and not to mention I couldn't predict how Kaiba would react when he heard the news. My ire, which had been oddly complacent, flared to scorching temperatures.

What did she have that I didn't? Beside the fact she was ethereal beauty. And she was the daughter of a rich billionaire CEO. From there the list trailed on as I slowly worked myself into a blind rage.

I know I have done some pretty moronic things in my life. However this mistake was different. I first realized just how dangerous this error was when a pair of cerulean irises met my gaze in disbelief. And this time I couldn't escape the consequences.

X-x-X

_Kisara_

Today had officially become the worst week of my life. Not only had I been beaten by a mental unstable Mai and my ankle had been run over by a car, but I also had to deal with visits from both my father _and _Mr. Kaiba. And apparently Mai wanted to go another round. One of those three were going to kill me and I was betting my money on the woman standing in front of me.

"What do you want, Mai?" My icy tone sounded foreign even to my ears. For a moment, it seemed I had caught her off guard. She stood there with her mouth slightly open and her eyes dilated, but by the time I had responded; she had already composed herself back to her malicious façade.

"You have nothing to say?" She asked in spiteful amusement. "Well that's funny because Friday night you couldn't shut up."

Wasn't pounding me into the ground enough? Hadn't I already given her what she wanted? I wondered as I resumed reading my book. I knew this was a far cry but I hoped that if I ignored her she would just leave.

Instead of her leaving, I only seemed to enflame her ire even more. So much so that she just marched to where I was lying down, grabbed my hair and pulled so hard that my head was forced to stretch backwards.

The acute pain forced me to cry out which only seemed to bring a sinisterly satisfied gleam to her irises. "Don't you dare ignore me." She commanded as she dug her acrylic nails deeper into the vulnerable skin on my scalp.

I was going to try to remain silent but when her nails broke through skin agonized whimpers couldn't help but escape from my lips. "Did you tell him?"

Her cool breath ghosted over the shell of ear and I could not suppress the shivers that crawled down my spine. I swallowed trying to hydrate my parched throat but I only seemed to irritate it more.

"Scared that I will?" Where the sarcastic tone came from I do not know. Every since I was a child, my father had beaten away any rebellious defiance I had. However, my retort had fallen so easily from my lips, as if I had used that tone on a regular basis.

Her automatic response was to once more tug my head to a complete arching angle, though that had not prevented me from seeing the glimmer of fear which passed through her eyes.

"Tell anyone and I swear I will do what the car couldn't." With one last yank, she released her grip. Then, without a moment's hesitation, she exited out the door.

As her figure retreated I couldn't help but feel disappointed. She kept promising to take my life away but every threat turned out to be empty. From the doorway, the grim reaper stood, patiently waiting. I could only smile at him as if apologizing for her incompetence.

It seemed no one had enough mercy to end what I couldn't. But I knew if I waited, my father would do it. If my father was anything, he was a man of his word.

X-x-X

_Mai Minutia Grant_

What was I thinking? I had just threatened Kisara out loud in the middle of a hospital! I couldn't be any more of an idiot if I tired. Why do I have to be so stupid! Why – for once in my life- couldn't I just _let it go_?

I was pulled from my thoughts when a nurse, walking in the other direction, suddenly collided into me and sent me flying to the next wall. Once she had realized what had happened, she quickly rushed to my side to help, muttering an apology a minute. However as she was helping me stand to my feet, she stopped talking, her eyes focused intently on my hands.

This observation piqued my curiosity. What was so interesting about my hands? As far as I've known they were normal.

However, I knew the time to ponder the idiosyncrasies of people was not now. As I was waving my hand in goodbye, spots of scarlet distracted my focus away. Upon further inspection, I saw dried smeared drops of crimson blood on my fingertips and nails, hauntingly contrasting against my pale complexion. Hurriedly, I buried my hands into my pockets. With a smile, I thanked the dazed maid for her help and then jogged all the way to the hospital door.

Outside, as I caught my breath, I chided myself. God, I'm such an idiot. An insane idiot.

X-x-X

_Thursday Morning_

_Rowland_

"Are you already at Rachel's house?" I checked the wrist watch on my hand and saw that indeed, without my notice, forty five minutes had passed since my wife left the house.

"I swear what would you do without me." Helen complained while, behind her, Rachel worked herself into a long winded lecture.

"Well that's why I married my lovely wife, so I don't have to live without her." I replied.

It was as someone had put a blanket of silence over the world. For a moment, everything paused. The birds. The trees. Even the wind. My only lifeline was my wife's light panting and even that wasn't louder than a hushed whisper.

"Do you really mean that?" She finally inquired a minute later, her voice soothingly soft.

I couldn't help but smile at her tentative question. "Of course. I could never lie to you." For the moment, I chased her insecurity away. But I knew it would return; it always returned.

Her hoarse chuckle rang sweetly in my ears like soft music, beautiful and alluring. "I guess Seto was right."

It was the first time I heard her laugh in a while. And not one of those deceptive chuckles but a genuine laugh. I could only grin at the sound of it because for the first time in a long time I realized how beautiful she was.

"He usually is but don't tell him I said that. His ego is already large enough." My answer earned me another melodious giggle and I laughed to, drunk from the sound of her delicate bell voice.

As my wife talked, I heard the rustling of fabric from the shadowed side of the porch. Instantly, I sobered as I stained my hearing for another rustle. It came and the realization which it brought chilled me to the bone. How long he had been standing there I wasn't sure but I did know that I couldn't ignore him any longer.

"Helen, I love you." Her lungful inhale was my only clue to her surprise which was an amazing feat in itself because lately nothing surprised my wife.

I barely let her say I love you before I ended the call and turned off my phone.

"Well it seems your wife is recovering very well." I could just _hear _the sinuous smile as it curled his lips upwards. With slow deliberate steps he came closer, the shadows peeling away from his form to make his grotesquely twisted features visible. "Isn't it amazing what modern medicine can do when you can afford it?"

I kept my features firmly emotionless while I waited for him to draw closer, close enough that anyone walking by or looking out their window could see him.

"How can I help you, Mr. Collins?" If anything his grin widened, showing his abnormally defined canines.

"My daughter told me something very peculiar the other day." He informed with such an ease someone might have thought he was talking about the weather.

"And what would that be sir?" I asked even though I probably knew the answer.

"She said it was you who caused her injuries." In a sweeping confidence, he leaned against the railing, methodically crossing his ankles. His mocking grin encouraged me to defend my actions but I knew if I did I would just be putting the final nail in my coffin.

"I did." For the briefest of moments, his devilish grin flattered. However, a moment later, it redefined his mouth once more, destroying with it the tiny flicker of emotion in his eyes.

"And yet how is it you are unscathed?" He's looking for any reason to kill I observed as his piercing eyes narrowed.

"Isn't the modern safety technology in luxury cars simply amazing? That is, of course, if you can afford it."

His eyes were nothing more than slits as he lifted himself off the veranda and headed for the stairs. "I want your report by Monday." With careful calculated steps, he walked down the porch stairs, promises of devastation and death bitterly crying painfully behind.

At the bottom step he paused. "And please tell Ms. Minutia if she lays a hand on my daughter that a fashion show will be the least of her worries."

X-x-X

_Mai Minutia Grant_

The tinted glass bottle was cold against my fingers as I pressed the rim to dry lips. Amber liquid poured from the spout, sliding into my mouth and down my throat in a burning path. I swallowed; the liquid traveling down to my stomach in a funny tingling sensation.

"_You're mean." _

The memory came unexpectedly as I reached for a new beer. Violently, I shook my head, hoping it chase away the memory which were beginning to bubble to the surface.

"_We don't want to play with you."_

"_She's a mean ugly brat." _

"_Just leave her alone. She doesn't want to play."_

With a slight ringing in my ear, I watched the high arch of the bottle cap as it was sent flying upwards. It seemed like it hesitated for a moment before it came back down, landing harmlessly on the other side of the coffee table.

I took a large sip, reveling in the scorching burn of the alcoholic liquid. Their once high pitched and childish voices became soft and feeble. Another sip and they completely disappeared.

On the opposite ceiling, the clock slowly counted the time and I watched as it slipped away. For the briefest second, I wondered if I waited long enough would a hero come to save me. But that thought too was buried in a dark corner as the alcohol slipped past my lips.

**Author's Notes: I am sorry that this chapter took so long. In my older version, I only mentioned Mai once or twice but never really developed her character so with this chapter I did just that. I, alone, am amazed at what I discovered and I would really love to hear your thoughts about this chapter. So please review!**

**Random bits of information: The tickets for Mai's fashion show cost 150 dollars each and the show room only fits 250 guest. Lennox Hill Hospital is a real hospital and Regency Boulevard is a fictional road created from the Regency Hotel.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Check profile for disclaimer. **

**Chapter 10**

_Thursday Morning _

_Kaiba _

I immediately knew something was wrong when I woke up this morning. Usually, my hearing was bombarded by the blaring volume of exaggerated voices, loud noises and brutal crashes. But this morning was different. I heard the expected grinding of coffee maker, the hot sizzling pan as it cooked breakfast and the insistent chattering of the maids but not a trace of a boisterous cartoon voice.

Things only turned more unusual as I passed the kitchen on my way to the car. A distressed maid nearly ran me over just to inform me that Mokuba had refused to eat breakfast, despite her pleas to do otherwise, and was already waiting in the car. While it was not unexpected for him to go to the car before me, it was completely unheard of him to miss a meal. If I didn't stop him, Mokuba would spend every waking second eating.

However, I did not know _how_ right I was until I arrived at my car.

Ever since fourteen, silence has been a rarity for me. Because of my father's sudden passing and my mother's outright refusal, I was the only legal heir to take over my father's corporation, a strictly family owned business. During the next four years, I was vigilantly watched and shaped into perfect "business man" by my father's family.

Since my father's family was so desperate to mold me in the perfect heir, they focused all their attention on me, leaving Mokuba alone. As a result Mokuba became a creature of noise. Music, singing, tapping, humming, television, it didn't matter what it was. As long as he create it or play it, he liked it.

That is why when I opened the driver's door, I was so unholy prepared for the stark silence which assaulted my abused eardrums. In the passenger seat, Mokuba was curled around the seatbelt like a wounded animal, clawing at the door as if that could hold back the upcoming tears. Behind me, rays of golden sunlight slipped past my frame and reflected off the cerulean icy shards in Mokuba's irises.

And it was rather eerie, I thought, that those azure flecks resembled surfacing bubbles.

X-x-X

_5:30 _

_ 5:31 _

_ 5:32_

_How long had he been awake? Ten minutes? Thirty minutes? An hour? _

_ Ba dump_

_Mokuba exhaled a breath, one only can create because of peaceful slumber, something that had eluded his thought ridden brain. _

_ Ba dump_

_The clock now said 5:33, another minute passed. Were they alone again? _

_ Ba dump_

_Trepidation coiled his nerves, twisting and turning him into a knot of fragile frayed synapses. _

_ Ba dump _

_His heartbeat swallowed the surrounding noises as it echoed against his eardrums in sound waves. Each beat erased Mokuba's slumbering breathing with its hollow staccato. _

_ Ba dump _

_The distant vibrations of door slamming announced her presence while the distinguished clicks of her heels made the idea concrete._

_ Ba dump_

_Her presence was like a noisy mosquito. With a little effort he could ignore it but he always knew it was there, lingering, anticipating for him to lose his guard so it could suck his blood. _

_ Ba dump_

_Apparently he couldn't hold onto ignorance for long for she tore open their bedroom door with ferocity of a lion, pouring light into their shadowed sanctuary. _

_ Ba dump_

_She only hesitated for a moment, to confirm that he was awake, before she released the words which shattered his already broken world._

"_Your father's dead." _

_ Ba dump_

_ Ba dump _

_ Ba dump_

_Like a hurricane, she tore everything to shreds with her greed claws and then left him alone to pick up the damage._

_ Ba dump _

_ Ba dump _

_The clock said 5:40._

_ Ba dump_

_The world had stilled as he waited for a reaction. Tears. Screams. Pain. Anything but this aggravating numbness._

_ Ba dump _

_Mokuba snuggle closer to his stationary side._

_ Ba dump_

_Mokuba inhaled against his hip, his exhalation tickling across the fabric of his pajamas. _

_ Ba dump_

_The clock said 5:44_

_ Ba dump_

_ The world began to move again…_

_ Ba dump_

_The world was spinning…_

_ Ba dump_

_And he was left behind. _

X-x-X

For once, I felt as useless as the information in my head. In this moment where I was needed the most by Mokuba I couldn't do _anything_.

I didn't have any words to describe the depth of my hatred for my occupation. The extended nights of working, the business trips, the scandals, it had stolen so much of my attention that I wasn't any better than my mother. I had _abandoned _Mokuba alone to rattle in that empty house.

As I organized the ricocheting thoughts in my head, Mokuba remained quiet. I considered pressing the matter but despite Mokuba's obvious differences, he was a Kaiba and Kaiba's were defensive creatures by nature.

Why was it when I was needed the most I always absent? What excuses did I give to this boy? What did I say that made me think it was alright to do this? Why is my work so important?

By the time we had made it to Mokuba's school, I was a mental wreck. Questions were like ricocheting bullets, tearing and ripping away at everything I knew.

As I drove along the curve of the sidewalk, Mokuba's teacher was waiting impatiently by the door.

I hated the woman ever since I first met her at the parent and teacher meeting. From the moment I saw her sneering frown to her lavish fashion style to her pointed high heels, I knew exactly what kind of woman she was. She was the type that expected the world to give her everything just because she had a terrible uprising and despised those who had a seemingly "easy life".

Whether to spite that woman or because I felt like in the next second I was going to stop breathing, I swung the car in a wide arc and parked the car hazardously into the closet open parking space.

Mokuba was so far lost in his mind that he didn't even react. I didn't doubt that he knew what happened, he had been in the car after all, but it was his indifferent expression which affected me the most.

"You're going to be late." His protest lacked vitality as monotone syllables lifelessly spewed from his mouth.

In response, I killed the engine. Mokuba gave a look which said "Why are you so pig headed" but didn't make any further complaints. At first, I expected the she-devil to storm over but she quickly proved me wrong when she stomped inside and slammed the door shut behind her.

While her disappearance did ease the tension, it could not erase this silence. This silence was the type of silence where every background noise is brought to such an acute clarity that I was even afraid to breath.

"Am I spoiled?" After such an extended silence, Mokuba's voice was like a sharp bullet sailing through the air, its faint whistle the only warning before the impact.

"If you wanted to be." It wasn't the answer which surprised me (Because Mokuba had many opportunities to act entitled and he hadn't take one of them.) but rather at the easiness in which I said them. Mokuba always knew I loved him; it was something I would never let him doubt because my conscious couldn't let me. However, I didn't think he ever knew how proud I was of him and all he had done.

"She said I was spoiled." His voice was a barely an audible whisper but the bitter hatred was louder than thunder. "She told me I was dragging you down."

At first I didn't know who "she" was. That is until he made the dragging comment and then I knew exactly who it was. Our mother.

"She said she wish never gave birth to me."

His words destroyed me. I felt as I swallowed an explosive which activated inside my body. Every slight movement was marked with a sharp stab of pain while my anger reminded me of why we were in this situation.

That greedy bitch. She was the one who put us in this twisted situation in the first place and now she was blaming a child for her choices. And not just any child but her child. A child she carried in her body for nine months.

I wanted nothing more than to call her and tear her apart. But as much as I wished to, I had a little brother who was emotionally breaking down. Yet, just as I was going to say something, the words dissolved on my tongue. How do you explain to a child that he wasn't to blame when he was so blindly in belief of the idea? How did you explain to a child that adults are selfish people and they don't realize how their actions affect their children?

I was jarringly brought back to reality by Mokuba's warm hand.

Arctic eyes captured me as they pleaded me for an explanation. It never ceased to amaze me the thoughts I had during the most important events in my life. And right I couldn't get my mind off the fact that Mokuba had our father's eyes. A ray of sunlight reflected off the azure icy shards, transforming Mokuba's irises into kaleidoscope of blue and grey, bringing old memories I had forgotten back to the surface.

"Why does she hate me?" The light retracted, as if frightful of what it discovered and now his eyes were a brewing thunderstorm, leisurely strolling through the sky as they destroyed everything below it.

The only thing I could tell him was the truth. So it was the truth I decided I would give him.

"I'll tell you when you're older." Suddenly I was my father and Mokuba was me, the little boy curled in the corner of the bathroom. With a hesitating motion identical to my fathers, I placed my hand on his head.

A shiver rippled through out his tiny frame, releasing the tension which had twisted it before he collapsed to whimpering sobs.

For fifteen minutes, I watched as he cried his agony away. Then, like my mother as she applied her makeup, Mokuba cleaned away the vestiges of his pain and reformed his features to indifference. Once he felt ready to go to school, he got out of the car and walked into the building. It wasn't until I knew he was safely inside, I drove to work.

Was this how life was supposed to be lived? Surviving until the pressure was so overwhelming that we break down to tears for fifteen minutes and then abandon the pieces on the floor and walk away without trying to fix the problem.

Instead of solving the meaning of life, I only gave myself a monumental headache. So when I reached work I was more than happy to erase that entire thought process and focus on my board meeting and unfinished report.

X-x-X

_Mai Grant Minutia_

New York is like the popular bitch. Everyone hates her but they all hang around because they want a piece of her. And just like being popular, living in New York always leaves you with two gifts: a jaded view on life and skewed morals. And what better place to represent New York than the many greasy hot dog stands that populates the city like cockroaches.

By the time my phone said 12:30, I decided I was going to kill Rowland. He knew very well that I hated these stupid stands. The greasy unprocessed meat accompanied by the foul smelling condiments was enough to make me nauseous. But no we had to be "discreet".

My skin crawled as the creepy stand owner gave me a leering gaze which made me feel nothing short of disgusted. And just as I was about to give him a piece of my mind, Rowland decided to show. Though I will never admit it aloud, it was probably for the best because I was about to ready to punch the pervert if his hand got any closer to my ass.

"One hot dog please."

I watched as Rowland took the cholesterol inducer and paid the man before we left. Once were far enough from that lecher did I speak.

"Didn't you have a heart attack last week?"

We both knew very well that he didn't but the opportunity was too tempting.

Just to aggravate me, he took a large bite of the revolting food and slowly savored it before swallowing. I made it perfectly clear how I felt about that action, by making a face of disgust that would have made any actress instantly jealous, which he responded with a thin lipped smirk.

To protest his diet choices, I let the possible conversation die. As a result we walked down the street in complete silence. At the crosswalk, Rowland had just swallowed his last bite, much to my relief. The pedestrian lights blinked from Don't Walk to Walk and that was the moment Rowland chose to talk while we were surrounded by a herd of people.

"He knows you're the one who beat Kisara."

X-x-X

I couldn't breathe.

It was as if I had swallowed small rocks and every time I tried to expand my lungs, they were weighed down. And the more I struggled, the more rocks it felt like I had swallowed, tearing and ripping at my esophagus with their sharp edges on the way down.

I didn't know how long I would have stood there, paralyzed by fear, if Rowland didn't pull me across the street and into the nearest café. The very thought that I could have been killed made me shudder so bad that the coffee cup in my hand trembled.

Rowland glanced at me from the lid of his coffee with concern and I nearly shuddered again.

Everything about this man put me on the edge. His pleasant demeanor, his sensibly dry humor, his indifference. What especially bothered me were his eyes. They mirrored his nonchalant friendliness but sometimes when they shifted into the light I could see a shadow. A shadow that had a secret locked away in it that he refused to reveal.

By this time, I couldn't stop shifting in my seat. Right now he should have been lecturing me! If it were anyone else they wouldn't even finish breathing before they said "you stupid girl, were you trying to ruin everything!" Then they would jump to the fact I was acting like a jealous child before the words exploded off their tongue in a tumulus wave of acrimonious anger.

Instead he said this, "He's not happy".

Well no shit. I didn't need anyone to tell me that.

"But he's not going to kill you."

So I was neutral. I am not exactly on his favorite person list but I wasn't going to have to my throat slit in the middle of the night.

"However, he is getting impatient."

I knew there was a reason why I hated this man. He could not just say outright that I was an incompetent fool. No he had to be sly and imply it..

"I'm working on it." Which I have and diligently for that matter. For the past couple months I have devised the rumors that I was certain I would ruin Kaiba's untouchable business reputation. I've spilled leaks about how we were a "couple" and that he was gay and in "love" with Yami Moto. Hell I even took money out of own my business to buy 20,000 dollar ring (which after some research I found out that he could _easily _afford that and not even sweat about it) with a man who far away looked eerily similar to Kaiba. I was going to release that tad bit Monday.

"Why don't you try a more _direct _approach?" Rowland suggested from the lid of his coffee, his dark amber eyes peering at me through the curtain of long eyelashes.

I wanted to tell him that was what I was avoiding. That I dreaded the fact one day I would have to meet with Kaiba. That I would have to face his cold indifference and finally admit to myself I was fighting a losing battle.

But I couldn't find the words. So I took a sip of my coffee instead, trying to swallow the words that lingered on my tongue with the spiced liquid as it drained down my throat.

He must have detected I was not willing anymore to humor him for he stood out of his chair. I expected him to just leave yet he instead took a step toward me.

The tenderness I received from his lips lingered on my cheek like a warm breeze. With a quiet goodbye, he left. For a moment, I entertained the craziest thought. That Rowland was actually quite handsome.

But I banished the thought as I reminded myself the work I had to do. Carefully, as if frightened of my own movements, I removed my phone and I dialed Jordan's number. What only took minutes to me felt like hours as the phone continued to ring but to my luck she picked up right before it went to voice mail.

"Hello."

"When does Kaiba's secretary go to lunch?"

**Author's Notes: **

**I am so sorry for a such a LATE update. Apparently, state standardized tests, SAT and a persuasive essay can create a nasty writer's block. So in all sincerity I have to say this. For all those who reviewed, you are AMAZING. You are the best reviewers on this whole site. You all have given me your support and honest opinions and I very much enjoyed EVERY review I have received. For the readers and reviewers, I am not giving up on this fic, especially since summer is sooooooooo close. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Check profile for disclaimer. **

**Chapter 11**

_Thursday Afternoon_

_Kaiba_

"I want to visit Kisara."

This was the demand I was greeted with by my little brother when I picked him up from school this afternoon. And even though this morning I had decided Mokuba was a Kaiba, I wasn't so sure anymore. Out of all my experiences with my father's family, I did not once encounter a Kaiba, either related through blood or marriage, who proclaimed their intentions out right. Which is the exact reason why I did not chose to reply.

"The girls in my school were talking about her and they asked me if I had met her."

If Mokuba or Kisara did not bring my death, I was certain those little devilish gossip monsters were going to have something to do with it. With their equally devilish mothers teaching them, I was convinced they could tear apart a multimillion company just by opening those vile mouths of theirs.

"And it got me thinking that I should meet her before you say something and screw it all up. Because I don't want to have to wait another four years for another girl to find the courage to talk to you. "

I should have never doubted my instincts. Mokuba was a Kaiba and cunning one at that. I knew that if I started this discussion he would lead it into a spiral in which he would receive whatever he wanted while my pride was shredded to pieces.

As much as it killed my pride, I decided to give in. As I turned on an unfamiliar street, Mokuba's mouth twisted into a grin so arrogantly triumphant it would have made our mother proud.

X-x-X

I was allowed a wave before Mokuba disappeared around the corner and into the flower shop. Really, this boy was going to be death of me. He couldn't just be satisfied with managing to convince me to visit the very person I wanted to avoid. No, we had to buy her flowers.

With an irritated shake of my head (which earned me a few knowing looks from the pedestrians walking past) I killed the engine, got out of the car and reluctantly walked to the floral shop's entrance. Beside me, well groomed flowers winked from the window as if they were trying to lure me into the shop's depths. Once I reached the entrance, I gave a brief glance to the sign taped to the door before I entered the shop.

The moment my foot touched the checkerboard floor, I was assaulted by a current of poignant perfume. Some flower's had a stronger smell than others, such as the roses and lavender, but most blended together to the point they were indecipherable.

A store helper was already glued to Mokuba's side, cooing and coddling him. For the most part Mokuba ignored her, giving her an encouraging nod and smile every now and then to convince her that he was otherwise not. He was snapped out of his reverie however when the loud echo of the bell on top the door travelled through the shop, announcing my presence.

Her mouth, which had been moving at a steady pace, closed so harshly her teeth grinded together. The harsh sound directly negated the clear melody of the bell, creating for a brief moment a blanket of deafening white noise.

With bright brown eyes, the shop keeper gave me a long sweeping look. Her gaze was heavy and my skin involuntary crawled at the darkening lust that was brewing like raging storm. Whether because of my obvious distaste or because of Mokuba's watching gaze, she grudgingly turned her attention back to Mokuba.

Their discussion this time was composed of a question, which I had assumed was "Can I help you" and a declining answer from Mokuba. With a look of desire so potent it could reverse impotence, she sauntered back to the counter where she pretended to read a frilly florist magazine.

While Mokuba patrolled the store, I found a comfortable niche in one of the shop's unused corners. There, I watched him as he strolled through the aisles, carefully considering his every option with a critical eye.

Observing him from the distance, my blind eyes finally saw what they had missed for so long. Behind the frame of a child, my brother harbored an old soul. It was in the slight curve of his shoulders, his sweeping steps, the tired smile on his lips. Maturity and experience practically radiated from in waves, affecting everything and everyone with its invisible touch.

He finally paused at a small section reserved for lilies. His eyes scanned the rows of flowers before he developed a particular fascination for the bright eyed freckled cousin, the tiger lily. The enamored amazement he showed toward the flower was reflected in his eyes as a pale flickering flame. It seemed to smolder his irises turning the stormy gray to liquid silver, such an intense hue it was unnerving.

The store helper must have noticed Mokuba had made his selection for she immediately rushed to his side, her dark expecting eyes a brewing storm of sexual desire. Once she was in earshot, Mokuba made his demand. It must have been a rather unusual order for she was quick to shake her head and deny it. An argument occurred between the two for ten minutes before the store helper finally gave up with a huff and dramatic hand gestures.

I waited for her to walk away, the very distinct sway of her hip now transformed to a violent dance, before I approached Mokuba. His golden tan fingertips were stroking the prominent curves of a tiger lily's petal, the color contrast of his skin and the flower a mesmerizing striking sight.

"Don't lilies suit her better?" Comparing the two, it did seem the normal white lily did seem to fit Kisara's character more. The lily was delicate and angelic with a haunting silver surrealism. The tiger lily on the other hand spoke of bold pride and a need for unquestionable prominence.

"No." His tone was as soft whisper as he folded his arm back to his side, "Lilies are too plain."

Under the fluorescent lights, his irises brightened to the hue of arctic ice, frost blue shards dangerously shifting underneath a sea of abysmal gray.

"Tiger lilies are one of a kind… just like Kisara."

X-x-X

I was starting to realize that Kisara's presence was not as fragile as I had originally believed. Instead she seemed to fill the room. It didn't matter how far away you were from her for it always felt as if she was standing right there beside you, close enough to touch. She was every business man's nightmare.

And the only reason I even noticed at all was because of Mokuba's comment at the flower shop. Which, I scolded myself, I should have noticed earlier because Mokuba was exactly the same. The moment Mokuba entered a room its whole dynamic changed. Conversations transformed into lively discussions, music became louder and hypnotizing and more people were prone to dance.

I learned all this the moment I walked into Kisara's hospital room. Her sweet trusting smile shined with such a luminosity, I almost deluded myself into thinking that it was physical brighter.

"Mr. Kaiba." Her breathless tone brushed over my hearing in a gentle caress. I inwardly shuttered at the familiar intimacy the words held and wondered I why I had never heard it before.

Before I could explain to Kisara the unusual situation, Mokuba paraded in with his one tiger lily bloom in hand.

Her pale candy lips flattened to a line at the sight of my little brother, her eyes darkening to azure as she carefully scrutinized him. For a moment, I worried if they're personalities would clash, for they were both dominating and overwhelming.

After a moment's consideration, Kisara's pale features softened. The harsh line that her mouth had taken shape of grew into a grin so brilliant it attracted the pale gold sunlight. Mokuba was as equally charmed as Mother Nature for a cheery grin overtook his face.

He confidently strode to her, paused at her bedside and handed her the single flower as if he had been doing this his whole entire life.

"You're awesome." The simple statement was the sincerest I ever heard the boy speak, so much so it sounded like a profession of love rather than praise.

Melodious notes slipped away from Kisara's lips as she chuckled at Mokuba's compliment.

"Thank you." Her sincere gratitude instantly affected Mokuba. The rigid stiffness in his shoulders, a habit he developed when he was younger, melted away and his irises became the hue of a clear winter sky.

"So you're Mr. Kaiba's little brother?" Her question didn't have any of the customary vile prejudice which was usually accompanied by that specific group of words.

Mokuba nodded in confirmation. "I'm Mokuba." He unfolded his hand from his side and reached it toward Kisara's limp figure.

"Hi Mokuba, I'm Kisara." She gripped his hand in what looked like a delicate manner but there was a surprising firmness in the way her fingers curved under the side of his palm.

They broke contact a few second later and once more those demanding eyes were on me, ulterior motive hidden in his smile.

"I'm _hunnnnngry._" The maturity that defined his character before vanished without a trace replaced by the mischievous devil he usually was.

"There's a vending machine in the cafeteria." Kisara's suggestion was fuel to the flame and Mokuba went from sugar high to hypersensitive.

Before I was launched into an argument whose clear outcome was that I would lose, I pulled a five dollar bill from wallet. The money was barely in my hand for a second before it was yanked from my grip and all that was left to indicate Mokuba was here was a cloud of dust.

I did not have much time to dwell on my Mokuba's childishness though for Kisara's quiet throaty giggle jarringly reminded me where I was and who I was with.

"He's a lot like you." Mokuba and I couldn't even attempt to count the amount of people who had said the exact opposite. In fact some people went out of their way just to explain to us how drastically different we were. It wasn't anything I couldn't handle but I knew the negativity would affect Mokuba so I tried to steer him away from it.

"You both have this air of certainty. As if life could thrown anything at you and it wouldn't affect either of you in any way."

The way she spoke those particular words was different. Usually her tone was quiet and distant as if she wasn't speaking them but someone else was. This time it was very personal, made gentle by admiration and powerful with respect. It was the first time, I noted, she had a reaction to anything around her.

I didn't know how to respond. I was used to many reactions: anger, hatred, jealously, lust, selfishness. However, admiration and respect were emotions that I didn't see very often. Like the other times, the honesty in those emotions floored me to silence and now I was stunned to such a powerful speechlessness that I was beginning to wonder how I ever used words before. Apparently I didn't need to say anything for she destroyed my forced silence as fast as she created it.

"Why did you come back?" The steadiness in her voice grabbed my attention but it was her eyes that seared my focus to her. Her irises were an azure ocean, a concentrated blue so still it was unnerving.

"Mokuba. The little devil can be convincing sometimes." A strand of hair fell across her shoulder and I couldn't stop myself from blatantly staring. There was something fascinating about the ordinary motion, something engrossing about the way her hair looked like liquid silver in motion.

"But you didn't have to come inside. You could have waited in the car."

The multiple outcomes that could have occurred if I had followed that course of action were sure to haunt my thoughts tonight. However, now I couldn't afford to let my guard down for I was already on a slippery slope that was threatening to bring me down.

"There wouldn't be a hospital if I did that." My response charmed a small giggle of music from her. More silver spun hair fell from across her shoulders in tumultuous waves of mercury. When she stopped laughing her hair stilled but a part of me expected it to continue flow like a waterfall.

"Do you know the meaning behind the tiger lily?" Pale spidery fingers caressed the flower's petals as the delicate center tickled the edges of her nose. Against Mokuba's tan fingers the dark dusted pink stood out but in Kisara's fair hand the white lining edges were nearly blinding and the dark pink looked like crimson.

I felt her gaze first (everywhere her eyes had made contact with my frame left my skin vibrating a weird prickling sensation) before I met her eyes.

"Wealth and pride. Fitting, isn't it?" Apparently we had the same dark humor for her irises transformed into a spectrum of brilliant blues as she tried to convey the ironic hilarity she found in the situation.

Before I could reply, Mokuba stormed into the room with an armload of snacks. Without a second thought, he tossed the large colorful pile on the edge of her bed and planted himself on the right side of her stretched out feet as if he belonged there all along.

Expect for a raised eyebrow, which I found both comical and remarkable, Kisara wasn't very phased by Mokuba's actions. If anything, it seemed she was impressed over anything else.

"I'll let you sit there if you answer one question." Even though her statement was formed as a proposition, I got the sense she wasn't going to make him leave.

Mokuba seemed to believe this too for he leaned back against the plastic headboard, his arms draped along the edge. The confidence that radiated off his frame was so aggravating familiar, it nearly dragged my focus away from the discussion to old buried memories.

"How did you know tiger lilies were my favorite flower?" My attention became laser focus on the discussion. I wondered why he had picked the tiger lily over the lily and now my curiosity had only intensified knowing now that it was her favorite flower.

"Intuition" was the little smug brat's one worded answer.

If Kisara was agitated by the cryptic answer I didn't know. Her expression betrayed none of her inner thoughts, something I couldn't help but find unnerving. Women her age were notorious for being dangerously emotional, easily slipping from one mood to the next in a blink of an eye. Yet she had an indifference that was bordering on robotic.

Then she shifted. Like a wave in the ocean, her icy demeanor was swept away by the subtle twitch of her mouth. With careful precise movements, she leaned backward and slid her legs closer to her side. Mokuba immediately jumped on the invite and stretched out his short legs.

From that point on, the two had an energetic conversation which Kisara respond with a quiet attentiveness. She was careful with her words, each one said with a certain deliberateness that didn't give anything away. Mokuba did not seem to mind for he continued to talk, trying to cajole her from her shell.

I expected to find this scene alien. No matter how smooth the conversation was there was always an air of uncomfortable tension. However, this time everything lacked the underlying bitterness which was common in Mokuba's usual talks with my fellow businessmen. Although she refused to give into the little devil's demands, she seemed to genuinely liked Mokuba, a feat only a few people could claim.

In fact, the familiarity which the two spoke with would have given any stranger the impression that we were family. Something, Mokuba and I had lacked for such a long time.

Which is why I couldn't bear to stop them. I had never seen Mokuba so relaxed. The stress which haunted his frame melted away leaving the remnants of young boy I remembered from my childhood.

And as I had learned a long time ago, I would do almost anything for Mokuba's happiness.

**Author's Notes: I am so so sorry this late. I had to rewrite this chapter three times because it got deleted and then lost. Unfortunately I have some bad news. The next chapter is going to be late because I haven't completely finished writing its outline yet. I hope, despite its major lateness that you still review and tell me what you think. It was all your reviews that kept me motivated to keep doing this story and I love reading everyone of them. **


	12. Chapter 12

**Check profile for disclaimer. **

**Chapter 12**

_Friday Afternoon_

_Mai Minutia Grant_

For someone who was so famously ridiculed for his extreme paranoia, Kaiba had a surprising lax with the security of his building.

From the moment I walked in the door, I expected a heightened sense of diligence. I had prepared myself to be viewed as a hostile enemy entering into a land mine of loyal soldiers so aware of their surroundings they were practically jumping out of their seats at the smallest sound. Instead, I was received by an overworked irritated crowd of office workers so far drowned in paper work they were practically swimming in it. Nobody even noticed me passing _by _them, let alone conscious enough to _comment _on it.

And while it made my life just a little easier, I found myself disappointed. It was no secret that I loved to be challenged. The adrenaline rush I received from trying to out maneuver my opponent, the silent battle of intelligence, the clashing of wills left me higher than a junkie on morphine. But what I savored even more was when I won and the immediate sense of disbelief from my opponent.

Hell it was only my addiction to challenges that had fueled my career to its impressive heights now. But that is a different story for a different time.

As I waited for the elevator to arrive, I tried to remember all what Jordan had informed me on. She had told me Kaiba's office was the last one on the fourteenth floor. She also warned me that although Kaiba's secretary generally left at twelve thirty for her lunch break, she sometimes stayed late.

When the slow contraption called an elevator finally arrived to the first floor, I hurried in. Before anyone else could step in, I stabbed the button printed with fourteen with so much force I worried it would stay caved in. The doors started to close after a hesitant second and along with it the view of the workers, who at this point resembled stressed worker bees, slowly disappeared.

Upon reaching the fourteenth floor, the door slid open to reveal an identical sight to the first floor, albeit a little bit more organized and calmer. And like the last floor they made no notice of my presence as I made my way down to the end of the corridor. By the time Kaiba's secretary's desk came into to view, I had nearly convinced myself that if this plan didn't work out I could reveal the truth on Kaiba's lax sense of security. The trouble that would come with the admission would be endless and truth be told I wanted the man to suffer a little bit.

By the time I reached close proximity to Kaiba's secretary's desk, I began to feel flutter of nervousness. However, I had to squash the sensation immediately for stern amber eyes caught the sight of my presence. In a rush, I hurried toward the nearby coffee station. Luckily for me, I was dressed in the same apparel as the rest of the workers so her scrutiny ended quickly. However, this gave me plenty of time to return the scrutiny with an inspection of my own.

Kaiba's secretary appeared to be in her mid thirties with a thick curtain of shoulder length caramel blond hair. Her heart shaped face and cupid bow lips were twisted in an expression of determination as she steadily finished typing with calculated effort. Her figure, from what I could see, was rather slender with a few curves accentuating her athletic build.

Two minutes later, she seemed to have finished her work for the afternoon for she had stopped typing and with a few precise clicks shut down her computer. As she finished the last organizing touches to her desk, I brewed myself a cup of coffee just to add further evidence to the woman for my purpose of being there.

Satisfied with her work, she got out of her chair and began to head to toward the elevator. As she passed my stationary form, I felt her piercing amber eyes study my figure with a harsh glare but fortunately she passed by without a word.

I waited until she entered the elevator and had begun her descent down before I ventured into Kaiba's office with my cup of coffee in hand. (It was perfectly moronic to waste a good cup of coffee and besides being seen with it might irritate Kaiba even more)

Once I found myself at the door though I found my courage starting to falter. Doubts began to creep into my thoughts, warning me of all the terrible consequences that could occur if this went wrong. If I accidently let out even a tiny piece of information that Kaiba could incriminate me with Gozaburo was going to have my head.

As I had done throughout my whole life, I pushed all the distracting thoughts from my head focusing on this one moment...only to discover the room was empty.

Because of my love for challenges, I also had developed a taste for confrontations. I savored the exchanging of words, the little digs and the heated hatred which bloomed from those violent explosions like people who enjoyed the biting flavor of jalapeno peppers.

Swallowing my second disappointment of the day I checked to see if anyone noticed me as I sneaked into his office and silently closed the door on the unsuspecting workers.

I was, for once, pleasantly surprised to find an office furbished in similar tastes to mine. There was the bare essential amount of furniture: a desk, a large bookcase, two chairs, file cabinets and a couch. The wall of floor length windows were covered with blinds expect for the middle pane which illuminated the room nicely without blinding its occupant with the overzealous sun.

Placing my coffee on the desk, I began to search through the file cabinets. The first cabinet was Kaiba's work files, files I knew that would be useless.

Since his debut to the public, Kaiba had managed to be scandal free. Don't get me wrong, people have tried to change that in the past. Once the rumor queen Mai Valentine, who was famous for finding dirt on even the squeakiest of reputations, failed. After that, everyone labeled it on a lost cause and moved there greedy eyes elsewhere.

Now I knew why. The man was boring. If these files are anything to go by, it seems that all Kaiba focuses on is work, and he does it in such an organized and monotone method that no one can question his legitimacy.

Though it seems the little white haired freak was changing that…

Before the surge of jealous swallowing fury could consume me, I moved on to the next cabinet only to find it held more files on Kaiba's many projects and business deals. It wasn't until the third cabinet fourth drawer did I find what I was looking for.

There, a folder was hidden so cleverly between two thick folders. It was a regular manila folder with enough paper material that the folder had retained its shape without straining yet large enough to flare curiosity even in the most indifferent person.

It proved to be worth its curiosity. The secrets which so unguardedly rested in its pages were juicy ripe fruits begging to eaten. Even the greediest of reporters would have been satiated by them and would have bragged for the rest of their lives of the find.

I stuffed the folder into my purse (thanking God for having the intelligence to bring my tote purse) and settled myself in one of the open chairs in front of Kaiba's desk. I was once again reminded of my neglected coffee cup and took a sip of the divine liquid.

The drink had cooled considerably but the taste was still smooth and creamy with a hint of bitter coffee grinds. Hands down it was the best cup of coffee I had ever had, so much so that I had already decided that before I left I was going to get the name of the brand of that coffee maker.

With a sigh, I leaned back into my chair and waited.

X-x-X

_Kaiba_

My hatred for extended board meetings could not be described.

If the purpose for these extensions was for new marketing techniques or to report uprising problems, I would have not minded. Instead, I listened to thirty minutes of complaints from my unsettled business partners.

Among the usual complaints of larger shares and the continual persistent advice that I declare a successor, I was interrogated once more on my relationship with Kisara. I was told all the consequences to pursing a relationship with a public yet unknown figure such as financial issues, bad family relations and etc.

By the time they found their complaints articulated and believed unable to be denied, I was in an irritated and murderous mood. Martha, well used to my bad attitude, did not speak but rather held out a cup of expected coffee as I passed her to enter my office.

I was looking forward to the silent reprieve of my private heaven, however fate one more chose to smite me. For sitting comfortably in one of my office chairs was Mai Minutia Grant.

I knew it was only a matter of time before she came to see me. It was inevitable that she would want to make things more _personal, _an idea that repulsed me to no end. However, right now I was in no mood to deal humor her.

"Get out."

Her amused smile told me how inclined she was to follow that command before she opened her mouth and said "What? You don't want to know why I am here?" with feigned offense.

Choosing to ignore her theatrics, I settled myself in my chair and started to turn on my computer. As I was placing my coffee cup down on the available empty coaster, I noticed the extra mug. If there was anything to say about Mai Minutia Grant, it was that she was bold.

"I have to say to say I am little a little disappointed you haven't tried to contact me." Her indifferent mouth turned to a feigned pout. I had seen the same pout on many women but hers was different. Behind the fake quality there was a cold harshness that gave support to the fact her lips were very comfortable with the position.

With no desire to play her little game, I slightly leaned forward and used a tone that would have frozen water. "Leave."

The innocent mocking façade she had been using dropped, revealing the stoic bitterness she had only hinted at. In a precise movement, she learned forward, her eyes showing the clear spark of vindictiveness.

"And what if I don't?" She challenged, haughty pride radiating from her still form.

Slowly, I pulled the bottom drawer open. By passing the gun tucked in the corner, I skimmed through the drawer's folders till I found the one I was searching for. With a carless flick of my wrist, I threw the folder onto the desk. Accidently a picture slipped out, lying innocently in front of the fashion designer. The photograph showed the fashion designer in front of a Holiday Inn entrance wrapped in the arms of a very classically handsome man.

The genuine shock that crossed her features became the brightest point of my day and I found my pride grew at the obvious display of my power.

"Imagine the public outrage once they hear the famous fashion designer Mai Minutia Grant was arrested for supporting prostitution. But as much as the police would enjoy that I am afraid your supporting business partners might not be as happy."

I let the statement digest before I continued. "Now if you don't want the police to wake you up tomorrow morning, I suggest that you leave. Now."

Her expression was unreadable. I expected an angry backlash comment full of vulgar language and carried from her mouth in a high pitch tone. Instead, she casually appraised me with those indecipherable eyes. Then her whole demeanor changed as she flashed a smile, a smile that said I know something you don't.

Without a word, she exited the room.

I had never thought more of Mai Minutia Grant then a woman who used juvenile school girl ploys. A woman with no originality. Now I knew she was much more dangerous with a wicked tongue and a vindictive glint in her eyes.

And she looked more than happy to be the cause of my ruin.

X-x-X

_Friday Evening_

_Rowland_

The sweeping wind chilled my aging skin marring its sun dried tan with white goosebumps while beneath me my rocking chair was compelled into movement. I ignored both in favor for the setting sun.

The said golden body was in limbo, half hanging in the sky while the other half was contently curled under the earth. As if in desperate attempt to remind the earthly inhabitants of its ever present self, it bled warmth across the horizon in the form of crimson rays. Its actions proved futile for ten minutes later its head sunk in to the unending abyss of space, beginning its perpetual crawl to the east once more.

Just as the last of the vermillion rays faded away, I heard the tell tale sign of our slightly rusted door being opened, its loud creaks a momentary disturbance in the thick silence. The door fell closed a little more quietly, the sign indicating my wife's presence.

Her tiny footfalls were muffled by the beaten concrete as she traversed the porch to her favorite lawn chair. I waited patiently till she was seated and comfortable before I turned my attention on her.

From the moment I met her, my wife always had a small frame. However, she had made sure she was healthy and I always showed my appreciation for that small build of hers. But as much as I wished to ignore it, I could not help but see the signs of her illness. It showed by the way her clothes hung on her frame, her hollow cheeks, her careful cautious moments as if she was frightened one wrong step could shatter her to pieces. This disease was killing my precious wife from inside out and I was beginning to wonder if anything could save her.

"Stop." Her unprompted demand shocked me from my concern.

Over the years, I have become very familiar with this word and my wife. Although I would never admit it aloud, I knew I was a man and that sometimes thought was overshadowed by the adrenaline of action. Which, as anyone could imagine, often got me into trouble and then I was hearing the customary scolding. But this time her voice was different. It lacked its usual hint of playfulness and was replaced with a tone that was colder, sharper. Quite frankly, it disturbed me.

"Whatever you're doing to get this money, it needs to stop. _Now._" She clarified after seeing my apparently confused expression.

It took me a minute to figure out what she was referring to but the moment it came to me I nearly groaned out loud.

Truth be told, it was a miracle that we avoid this subject for this long. I was hoping to continue delaying this conversation but I could see Helen was reaching her breaking point and if I continued to ignore it there would be hell to pay.

"That money comes from my pay check. Kaiba gave me a raise." This was a lie. A falsehood of such large portions it could destroy everything but I couldn't tell my wife the truth. The disease had taken so much from her already; I wouldn't let it take any more.

"Rowland Jones don't you _dare _lie to me." I knew she wouldn't be fooled. It was no secret that my wife was the smarter one of us two. My friends had always joked that I was going to be the first one to pass and that if not for her I would have been dead earlier.

"I don't want to die on hospital bed. I don't want to go running to every quack job with all our life savings just because he says he has a cure. I am _so_ tired of running around just to get our hopes destroyed again. I am so _sick _of living life frightened that any moment might be the end. I rather spend the rest of my days with Marlene and her children."

If it weren't a serious moment I would have found her so attractively irresistible. With her flushed cheeks, trembling form and silent tears, I would have brought her into my embrace and kissed the agony out of her.

But this time I couldn't. She was telling the truth. A truth I didn't want to hear.

"I want to die in your arms."Her confession came in a quiet whisper. The kind of whisper that teasingly tickled my hearing which lengthened the time it took me to realize the intensity of the soft spoken words.

All the air in my lungs left as though I had been punched in the stomach. Hard. From head to toe every muscle contracted to the point one slight movement caused my entire body to spasm.

And there she was. Just waiting. Waiting for the answer that I was both repulsed and desired to say.

I tried. I had tried to say it but every time the word stuck to my tongue like a leaden weight.

She must have known I couldn't say it for she calmly walked back into the house, closing the door without a hint of her true emotions.

And this was one of those times in our life where we both wished we were better liars.

**Author's Notes: Life just sucks sometimes. I would have had this posted much much earlier but I had to go to work (I physically live at my work place) and didn't have computer access or time so I couldn't edit the chapter until now. I am so sorry but now I am going to start writing again but I can't promise fast updates. What can I say life just sucks sometimes. **

**Important Note: From this point onwards Rowland's name will be Rowland Jones. I know it has been changed several times, that is my fault and I apologize for the confusion. **


	13. Chapter 13

**Check profile for disclaimer. **

**Chapter 13**

_Saturday Afternoon_

_Kisara_

Muscled shoulders flexed impressively underneath a black tight t-shirt as my tutor stowed away his books in his backpack. He had probably worn that shirt on purpose. Either that or he was good at picking clothes that suited him but I highly doubted that one. There was something too rugged about him. With his unruly hair and dirt coated jeans, it seemed like he didn't have the patience for vanity.

My contemplation of his character was cut short as he turned his full attention to my prone form, his backpack slung lazily across his shoulder and a soft smile on his lips.

"Well it's been fun working with you." Although the statement sound genuine, he obviously felt the awkwardness of the situation for his southern accent changed the you to a strong sounding ya.

"Yes it has been." I replied with a smile that must have been dazzling for his soft smile widened to a grin and his azure irises lightened to an iridescent cerulean.

He looked, at that moment, prepared to leave but then he seemed to have a mental reminder for hurriedly reached for something in his pocket. The object, apparently, was a slip of paper, and he stretched out his arm to hand me it. "If you need anything don't hesitate to call."

Carefully, I unfolded my arm from my side (ignoring the dull ache that resulted from the motion) and placed my open hand underneath his. Slowly he dropped the paper to my palm, making sure to drag his calloused fingertips across the delicate skin of my open hand before he backed away to the door. With one last heated glance that would have made any woman's lower abs clench, he turned around and entered the hallway.

I waited until he had disappeared completely from my view before I placed the phone number on the nearby nightstand. A part of me wanted to indulge in the impulsive fling he presented, but I could not rationalize a reason convincing enough to go through with it. Besides all he would be worth to me was a physical affair that lasted a month or two before we through each other way like trash.

Expect for one. He haunted the corners of my mind, always a thought away. At the very sight of the color blue, the image of arctic blue hued irises printed themselves upon my eyelids inciting both sparks of electricity and numbness throughout my nervous system. Fantasies of a lingering feathery touch and quiet husky words dragged me out of reality, reduced me to a quivering bundle of strung out nerves, and twisted my stomach into sharp knots that took it me hours to recover from. I was being destroyed by his presence, and I knew if I didn't come up with a solution soon that I might not be able to glue the pieces back together.

Before I was dragged back down into the inescapable abyss, I grabbed my cell phone from the night stand. The motions were mechanical to me as I pressed the speed dial and put the phone to my ear, the familiar ring echoing loudly against my sensitive eardrum.

A minute later, my father's deep tenor was projected from the plastic device delivering the question, "What did they say?"

The power my father's voice held had always amazed me. It sounded as if he was right in the room with me, breathing over my shoulder as he pinned me with those fierce eyes. Sometimes, I found myself looking at my surroundings just to see if he was there or not. This was one of those times and although the dull white floors and walls reminded me of a padded cell, I felt, for the first time, relief in their confinement.

"I'm making a fast recovery and I can be picked up today."

From the other line, I could hear the subtle shift of papers, the quick typing of fingers and in the very distance a dull quiet conversation. My father's heavy breathing pierced the silence in my hospital room causing goosebumps to crawl along my exposed arms.

"Call one of your friends; see if they can do it. Gregory Wyndham has made an appointment for three and this is the only week he will be in the states. Do you understand?"

Although it was not stated, I could hear the implied threat between the lines. Don't you dare ruin this opportunity for me, is what it roughly translated to and I didn't want to even know what promise of punishment followed.

With a smile as false as a politician, I swallowed my disappointment and replied "Of course. I am sure one of them can do it."

His satisfied grunt caused my throat to reflexively clench, and for a moment I forgot to breathe. "Don't expect me tonight." With that short of piece of information, he ended the call just as his secretary in the background announced Gregory Wyndham's arrival.

It was until I heard complete silence did I resume to breathe, and only when I felt the familiar expanding of my chest, I allowed my tense frame to relax. But my heart refused to cease its angry palpations. In hopes it would help my uneasy heart rate, I began to pack away my belongings, which although were small in quantity seemed to find a place everywhere in the small room. I purposely avoid the dying lilies on the window seal for at every glance at them I became closer and closer to the edge, and if I wasn't careful I was going to fall.

X-x-X

_For the young boy, it was another night of restless unattainable sleep. When he felt the familiar urge and muscle tugging, he untangled himself from his younger brother (Which was no easy task. His brother was like a leech when he slept; he gravitated toward any warm object and clung to that said object with such a deathly grip it sometimes left bruises.)_

_After he was certain he had not disturbed his brother's sleep, he went to the bathroom considerably relieved after he completed the ordinary task. As he was passing his parent's bedroom, he heard the familiar hushed drawl of his father's voice speak the whispered words "What's wrong?"_

_The boy was aware of the fact that his mother wasn't here, she was currently in New York City for another runway show. And despite the fact she was practically glued to her cell phone, not once had he seen his mother call his father. _

"_Did he hurt you?" Although his father's tone had not gained volume, there was a note of panic that was foreign to him. He had never heard his father's voice reach that level of panic yet whoever was on the phone had already brought him to that state in the short time between two responses. _

"_Where are you?" was the boy's only warning as the door was swung open. His father did not even look to see if anyone was in the halls, he just rushed down the padded hallway. The boy, only after his father was gone, followed the hurried man until they reached the main foyer where he chose to stay in the shadowed safety of the corner. _

_His father wasted no time rushing to the door; forcing the carved wood open with so much force the doorknob nearly entered the wall. The torrent waves of pouring rain created a drifting breeze, which began to soak the front door's rug, yet it was not the ruin of his carpet that his father was worried about but rather the woman who was standing outside it. _

_The boy had never met anyone as beautifully angelic as the woman on the doorstep. Her silver leafed hair tresses glowed like his mother's diamond earrings under the soft porch light, brilliant sapphire irises so haunting his lungs ceased to work. Soft porcelain skin shimmered with rain drops, soaking his father's shirt as his father pulled her into his embrace._

_There she shuddered, a shiver so fierce her entire frame shook from its intensity, rivulets of crystal tears marring her flawless flushed cheeks. She snuggled her reddened nose into the crease of his father's shoulder and neck, her quiet shaken sobs the only source of noise in the spacious foyer. _

"_Help me." _

X-x-X

Who would have guessed that when all your friends were handpicked by your father that they wouldn't do something for you unless it benefitted themselves?

I had called nearly everyone in my contact list (which approached somewhere from twenty to thirty people) and was down to my last person, Jordan. And albeit she was the best out of the group, the girl was constantly busy with her school, her job and her wild dating life. As a result, I expected the answer to be in the negative.

Like I had predicted, she was busy. (She had a date with a famous freshman college football player who was rumored to be the next Tom Brady) Unlike the others, she kindly offered to cancel her date, but I immediately shot down the idea. One lesson I learned very well is you do not get in the way of any money making deal, no matter how desperate you are.

However, I refused to stay any longer in this hospital room and I was running out of options. Calling a cab was out of the question. After the many taxi rape scandals, I was paranoid by that method of public transportation and my father would have a conniption if I took the subway. So I called the last person I wanted to talk to: Seto Kaiba.

Really what was I thinking? Contacting the very person that was bringing to the brink of insanity did not sound like a good idea, both in theory _and_ in practice. Yet before I could convince myself of the high risks this action would bring, I was already at the nurses' station asking for a phone book.

Everything in me hesitated. When I was typing his office's number in my phone, I felt every muscle tense at every number. By the time, I had pressed send and the phone began its regular ringing, a full minute had passed in which I tried to force myself to consider the stupidity of the idea.

However, I knew that this was mine last chance to get out of this white washed hell where the only things to do was study and reminisce in memories and feelings that I didn't want to. Yet I couldn't help but feel like a drug addict who was trying to cure his withdrawals by using the drug that brought him to this despairing state in the first place.

When I heard the inevitable click, which indicated the call had been accepted, I was expecting his secretary despite the fact it was Saturday.

"Hello"

Mr. Kaiba's smooth baritone slipped through phone receiver so huskily I felt my heart clench in the tell tale sign of attraction as a warm tremor slid down my spine. His voice caused my vocal cords to malfunction. The usual greeting clung to my tongue, my lips knew the formation in which to express the word but even with pressure my vocal cords refused to vibrate in order to express it.

From the other side, an annoyed huff reached the receiver indicating that the Mr. Kaiba's short patience was running out and he was going to hang up soon.

At the end of the day, it was the imminent ending of my opportunity to escape from this place that propelled the words.

"Mr. Kaiba" Even I cringed at the intense volume of the two words and quickly dismissed the curious stares from the nurses with a hardened glare.

"Kisara" I never had heard my name spoken so softly, as beautifully as the syllables rolled of his tongue with questioning curiosity. My heart pounded viciously against my rib cage at the melodic notes that formed his deep low voice and for a moment, just a brief moment, I wished my name had the same effect on him.

"I wanted to thank you. I really enjoyed meeting your brother."

From the other end of the receiver ,I heard a quiet snort accompanied by the swift typing of a few keys on the keyboard. "The feeling was mutual."

There was another pause, another typing of keys and shuffling papers. Sometimes, Mr. Kaiba resembled my father that way, always surrounded by a monotonous silence, always immersed in solitude. It had to be incredibly lonely experiencing that day after day.

"And speaking of that little devil, he wants to see you again."

Although the statement was clearly a simple statement between the lines I could read the unspoken question. He wanted to know if I was willing to meet his baby brother again; curious to see if I was once more willing to straddle that danger zone we breeched from Mokuba's last surprise visit. If I didn't know any better, I would have said Mr. Kaiba was nervous.

"I'm free this afternoon." I don't know where the confidence in my voice originated from, but it was strong enough to even completely silence the almost inaudible paper and typing that continued through the conversation.

"We'll be there by three." Amusement twisted one of the corners of my mouth upward. Our conversation was starting to sound more like a business deal rather than a friendly rendezvous.

"I'll be here."

From the other line I heard the abrupt short mechanical beep notifying me Mr. Kaiba had ended communications on his side.

For a minute, I sat curled around my legs staring at the blank wall before me.

What was I thinking? What good could possibly occur from me seeing him when for the past few days I wanted to do nothing more but erase him from mind?

As I closed my eyes, I saw the imprint of icy blue irises; the familiar icy heat began crawling down my spine that had me trembling so intensely the bed began to move. And for the first time in years I prayed to God.

**Author's Notes:**

**So I noticed that it has been two years since I first started this story. I want to apologize for that. This story could have easily taken one year to do and I am guessing that is why so many of my readers are little unhappy with me. I promise I will try to update more often. Good news is I have already written the story to the half way point.**

**For those reviewers who have stayed with me from their first introduction to this fan fic I want to thank you. You have been the greatest support and your reviews all are confidence boosters. You have been such a vital part of keeping this story alive to this point and I am so happy that I have so many people who honestly love my writing this much. This chapter is dedicated to you guys. **


	14. Chapter 14

**Check profile for disclaimer. **

**Chapter 14**

_Kaiba _

The boy's impatience never ceased to impress me. I had barely put the car into park when the door was thrown wide open, and the little black devil had disappeared behind the hospital's electronically functioned doors.

I, however, chose to stay with car. For although I had parked far away from the door, it was a hospital and Domino was, after all, on the outskirts of New York, which was home to some of the worst drivers in the world. It would not be surprising that two or three ambulances would approach the hospital because of a five car pile accident that occurred on the highway between the two places.

However, I wasn't awarded such a delay, and five minutes later, Kisara was wheeled through the hospital doors, the black haired brat glued to her side. Apparently, Mokuba had told her something funny for she was giggling, causing a smile to appear on the male nurse who was pushing her (and who was standing closer to her than necessary).

Between my noticing of the man's attraction and Mokuba's seemingly comfortable attitude around her, I was forced to swallow a bitter pill of truth. If I was being completely candid with myself, I wasn't ready to see Kisara. The demoness was a radio frequency wave which destroyed all service and threw systems into chaos. Over the few days I hadn't seen her, I managed to once more enjoy neatly organized and logical thoughts, and not even five minutes in her presence I was already acting out of character.

With great reluctance, she raised her eyes to mine, arctic crashed with sapphire causing a subtle undercurrent of tension. To hide the discomfort she obviously felt, a small smile twisted her lips, and though the male nurse was jealous by the action, Mokuba's raised eyebrow clearly showed he knew she was putting up a false front.

While I was collecting her bag from the nurse's shoulder, Kisara preceded to escape the confines of the wheelchair. It did not escape my notice she heavily relied on right ankle even with the aid of crutches, and suddenly I watched the inhuman grace she once possessed transformed into a jerky, broken movements she was clearly not used to.

Mokuba, who also clearly noticed her discomfort, smoothly guided her to the car like the little host our mother wanted him to be. With a wide smile, he put Kisara's crutches across the floor of the back seat as she climbed into the passenger seat. Quietly he closed her door, and then settled himself into the car with a grin which screamed cat-who-ate-the-canary. All in attempt to mercilessly tease the nurse who had taken an _obvious_ liking in the pale haired enigma.

And, sadly, it worked.

When the echoed click of the trunk brought the nurse's attention back to reality, I nearly smirked at the oaths he whispered under his breath. While the little brat could be charming, Mokuba also enjoyed unnerving some adults. (Which was another innate Kaiba trait, and one of the many reasons why our family had dominated the gaming world. According the Kaiba philosophy, everyone was a pawn who could be and should be manipulated to our advantage.)

Out of societal courtesy, I shook the disgruntled nurse's hand and silently thanked him for his service with a subtle nod. He returned the action with an identical motion, before he turned his gaze to Kisara who gave him a waning smile and a friendly wave.

With everything in order, I entered the car. Mokuba's quiet chuckle traveled to my ears as I turned on the groaning engine, and I knew instinctively the male nurse had lingered, trying to fit in one more pathetic gaze. A quick look from the corner of my eye confirmed my suspicion and displayed to me Kisara's amused smile at Mokuba's obvious mischievousness.

Methodically, I put the car into drive and silently prayed that this afternoon wouldn't be as disastrous as I expected it to be.

X-x-X

"Turn right"

I followed Kisara's soft spoken command, only to be stopped by a seemingly never ending long line of impatient honking cars. The slight downward turn of Kisara's lips mirrored my annoyance, however a gentle smile returned as Mokuba continued his story.

As he recounted the details about an amateurish play his teammates and him did (which resulted in Mokuba kicking the winning goal), a cold slithering snake wrapped around my stomach. I had not attended that game, and I was hard pressed to remember the excuse I used. My grip on the steering wheel tightened as I tried to chase away the image of a crestfallen Mokuba, of the little crying child who had curled in my car and went through a mental breakdown not even an adult could handle.

At the first sign of movement, I was violently pulled to reality. Mechanically, I followed the line of cars as they slowly crawled to light only to be thwarted last minute when the light turned red. An eon later, the light turned green, and Kisara had softly instructed I keep straight.

Once more, I ran into a stoplight and Mokuba's stomach chose to drown out his owner's loud voice with a rumbling growl. The typical human reaction caused soft giggles to escape from Kisara's lips.

With a soft smile, she questioned "Do you like hot chocolate and cinnamon rolls?"

A grin spread across Mokuba's face so wide it also seemed like his face was going to split into two. Somehow the demoness had managed to guess Mokuba's favorite combination during the winter. While each of them was too sweet for my taste buds, the little devil craved them worse than a pregnant woman.

Kisara's sapphire orbs practically glowed under the filtered sunrays, softening her features as questioned "Have you ever been to Razzbaries?"

He shook his head no, which did not surprise me in the least. In the past, we ate at home or ordered out because at the time he was too young to be able to handle a sit down meal. Now, we just did it out of habit.

"They're the best. My mother used to take me there all time when I was younger. We went there so many times the employees knew us by first name."

Mokuba, who was salivating at the mere mention, turned his expecting eyes to the review mirror, and his twisted reflection eagerly questioned me. I was about to deny him when Kisara, who was obviously hesitant, chimed in with her own subtle persuasiveness.

"I'm free now." She whispered, obviously expecting a negative reply. And like at the Christmas party, I felt the rise of a challenge. I had not created the top business company in the United States simply by doing what was expected of me and the idea of conforming sickened me to the point any reasonable doubts I had were ignored.

"Which way do I turn next?" I questioned, succumbing once more to the boys request, and surprisingly, Kisara seemed to like this fact because from the corner of my eye I caught sight of her radiant, genuine smile.

X-x-X

Sometime, I was going to have to talk to Mokuba about not jumping out of the car. This time, I barely had the car in park when he swung his door opened, climbed out and slammed the door shut.

Just as I was ready to scold the boy for running out so quickly, he surprised us both by stopping Kisara's door and opening it with such reverence someone would have thought she was the Duchess of Cambridge. With a low bow, he gave her crutches, which she took with a gracious smile. Once she was out of the car, he closed her door and then proceeded to escort her to the café's door.

I watched this with scrutinizing glance, searching for even the slightest hint of insincerity on his part. There was none. He _sincerely_ liked her, and I might even go as far to say he possibly _respected _her.

Not _once_ in my career had Iseen Mokuba approve of any of the women in the business circle I was tightly bound to. He, like me, either despised them for the falsity, superficiality or just plain entitled spoiled attitude they all seemed to carry.

This woman had to be a demoness.

By the time, I had caught up to the pair Mokuba already had his face glued to the display window. Kisara, on the other hand, hovered near the doorway (I dared for a second to believe she was waiting for me) watching in amusement.

When I had walked through the door, she easily fell into my step and together we walked up to the drooling devil as he made his order to a smiling cashier. When the cashier caught sight of us, he was ready to ask for our order when suddenly his face twisted into surprised.

For a silent minute, he stared relentlessly at Kisara, who seemed unfazed by his heavy gaze, before a grin broke out on his flabby face.

Without any warning, the cashier twisted his slightly obese frame and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Ma, she's returned".

Two minutes a later, a plump older woman rushed from the back door with a dish rag twisted hazardously in her hands. "Boy, you better not be lying to me or I am making you pay for my medical bills."

Squinted eyes barely peered over the low counter, obviously expecting her son to be lying. However, when those beady eyes caught sight of Kisara, recognition brightened her dull irises with motherly warmth that could only come from genuine love.

Faster than anyone would have expected, the woman rushed from behind the counter and wrapped Kisara in a hug so tight, I almost thought I heard one of Kisara's ribs crack. Kisara, undisturbed by the woman's intense affections, returned the embrace with a softer, loser hug, admiration clear marked across her facial features.

In slow deliberate movements, the woman pulled away from Kisara, her eyes appraising her approvingly.

"Well aren't ya just the spittin' image of your mother?" With a smile, the old woman patted her arm before she turned those critical eyes to me. "You even have the same taste in men."

For the first time, I watched as Kisara became annoyed by the situation. Her lips twisted in a grimacing frown which made her resemble a very angry primate. Yet in the blink of an eye, her dissatisfaction seemed to disappear from her delicate features as another fake smile deceivingly warped her lips.

"They always warned me I was going to look just like her, but I am not here to reminisce. I am afraid it's been way too long since I had one of your cinnamon rolls."

"Well why don't we solve that _horrendous_ problem then." Quick as a whip, the woman slipped behind the counter and whispered something to the cashier. The cashier, equally excited to see Kisara, took our order calmly but when I went to pay he just handed me the receipt.

"It's on the house" Kisara quietly explained, as she led us to the nearest empty table, laughing at Mokuba who had chosen to walk backwards so he would never have to take his eyes off the lavishly decorated pastries.

We were barely seated for five minutes by the time the old woman reappeared from the counter, a standard plastic tray wobbling in her quivering arthritic fingers. Mokuba's arctic irises watched her approach with laser focus, while in greed his hands twisted his napkin.

Wisely, the old business owner gave Mokuba his hot chocolate and cinnamon rolls first which he already tore a giant piece of by the time she handed Kisara an identical order. With a glare, she slammed my black coffee, and without a backward glance, travelled to the back room.

Mokuba, who already devoured half of the desert, was licking away the vestiges of icing from his fingers when a thoughtful expression transformed his childish features.

"What was your mother like?"

The little devil had hit a nerve and a very sensitive one at that. Kisara, who had not outwardly flinched or tensed, hung her head low so her face was concealed by a curtain of white. In slow, soft circles she traced the edge of her coffee holder, ignoring the little boy who was gazing at her with such innocent curiosity.

After a minute of quiet, heavy silence, I conceded she wasn't going to answer Mokuba's intrusive question and instruct him to apologize when in a quivering voice she answered,

"She wasn't a particularly loud person. Rather if anything, she lived a quiet life, and when she accomplished anything she never bragged, but simply moved on to the next challenge. Everyone who met her instantly loved her."

Her tone, which was usually careful, controlled and sarcastic, trembled from pure admiration, while her confession caused her musical voice to crack. It was my first insight that beyond her pale controlled visage, there was a passionate, excitable woman waiting to break free the confines of her prison.

"I wish I could have met her." Mokuba whispered, his tone exactly mirroring the reverence and admiration in her voice, expect this time it was directed toward her.

For the first time during this conversation, Kisara raised her eyes to Mokuba, the depthless oceans exposing a genuine caring she was beginning to develop for the little devil.

"Me too. She would have liked you." The acceptance which was implied in her reply was received by Mokuba with such sincere gratitude it made me slightly concerned. It was obvious to see he was become attached to her, and she sincerely seemed to care for the boy. However, I couldn't promise it would be enough to make her stay in his life, and I didn't think he could deal with another rejection.

Before I could ponder whether I should terminate this awkward relationship, she turned those bright irises to me, which had transformed to a darker, colder shade of blue.

"She would have liked you too. Blue eyes were her favorite. She always told blue eyes were God's way of bottling up dreams."

Although I would never fully comprehend its significance until I was older, her statement would haunt me for the rest of my life.

Because, throughout my entirely too short existence, she had the bluest eyes I had ever seen.

X-x-X

In a smooth motion, I parked my car in front of Kisara's house. The house itself wasn't either impressive or unimpressive, but seemingly normal. It was one story, neither extremely tall nor short, and the fading light yellow paint and bright red rosebushes were cliché.

While Mokuba assisted Kisara in getting her out of the car, I got her belongings from the trunk. With her bag on my shoulder, Kisara steady on her feet (with the help of crutches) and the car locked (with Mokuba inside), I escorted the girl to her door.

Patiently, I waited as she struggled to balance on her non injured foot and unlock the door, which she succeeded after two minutes. Ignoring the smug smirk which had twisted my mouth, she climbed into the house before she took the bag from my hand and set it somewhere which I presumed to be the living room.

Since my services were not needed, I headed back to my car only to find myself automatically halting when she called "Mr. Kaiba".

"Thank you. I know you're a very busy man, and I appreciate that you took time out of your schedule to escort me around the city." The apology, albeit expected, was charming in its own way, and it made wonder if she was being simply polite or if there was meaning behind. Then again what did it matter?

"Seto" I corrected, though I was doubtful she would change from "Mr. Kaiba".

Strawberry pink lips formed in an elusive grin, her bright oceanic eyes softening in the golden sunlight to a shifting, dancing light blue. "Maybe one day."

And with those teasing words, she closed the door. Once I saw her traveling into the living room through the window (Mokuba probably would have killed me I wasn't sure she was alright) I treaded back to the car.

X-x-X

_Kisara_

There was something ominous about the way Mr. Kaiba strutted down the side walk. It was if he was trying to make that his final walk, his final attempt to build the bridge between the two of us. But then again I could have been just analyzing when I didn't need to.

After watching Mr. Kaiba's sleek black Lincoln disappear around the corner, I began walking into the foyer. The small little space was for whatever reason the darkest with lights off, and naturally, I accidently misguided myself to the opposite wall beside the door.

It didn't matter how dark or how bright it was, I could point out that particular spot immediately. Almost automatically, I fell in to the dark memories when I approached that spot, where all I heard was the reverberating echo of skin being assaulted, tasted the metallic tang of blood, smelled the salt from silent tears, and saw my mother's crumpled broken floor lying in a heap.

Before I fell into that dark abyss where all I could hear was the sound track of her injured whimpers and her promise "I won't make it", I hurriedly raced through the living room and up the stairs as fast as I could with my handicap. A few times, I had felt the crutches slip across the carpet and nearly plunge me downward, but in my abandonment I continued to run.

Quickly the doors of my father's room, my room and the bathroom passed me by as I steadily headed to the guest bedroom. There he had stored all of the possessions of hers when he couldn't bring himself to throw them away, his weak attempt to try to erase his guilty conscious of her.

Once inside, I ignored everything. The bed, the dresser, the night stand all disappeared from my sight as I only focused on my destination of the closet in the back corner. About midway, I lost my grip on one of my crutches. However, this did not deter me for I continued on, forgetting my second helper. Thankfully, I was less than a foot away from the closet when my legs decided to no longer support me.

It was difficult to say the least, but somehow, I managed to pry open the closet doors. Although my goal, this particular action was not safe for the closet doors were my only solid support, and without them I only had one direction to go. Before gravity could finish its job, I grabbed one of my mother's dresses. A loud echoing snap told me the hanger could not take the pressure, and along with the broken hanger, the dress and me, we all landed awkwardly on my broken.

Pain electrified my nerves upon the landing and created a pulsing agony, but I ignored it as I surrounded my face in the soft velvet of her dress. It smelled like her, like lilies and sunshine. Like a warm fire on rainy day, heated sugar in the basking sun, and deserts in a bakery.

I stayed that way until my father came home, clutching her dress until I could no longer detect her scent.

X-x-X

_It was the first time he had driven with his driver license, and it was to a graveyard to visit his father's tombstone, which he had not seen in two years. _

_The despairing pathetic quality of the situation did not escape his notice. _

_Once a young boy stood in front of this tombstone, swallowed by crushing hopelessness which tore at his heart with bloody unrelenting claws. Now he was a man, entering the world of adulthood ready to take hold of a company whose fortune or misfortune solely rested in his hands. So much had changed, yet with grim resolution he realized nothing had changed at all._

_Carved into the stone, his father's proud name called to him. Spoke to him of past accomplishments, ancient glories and an unrequited love in a whispered, icy voice. _

_With measured control, he placed the bouquet of Star of Bethlehem's' on his father's grave. His father had always been partial to them for some reason._

_From the corner of his eyes, he spotted the haughty glare of a pink spotted tiger lily. The contrast of the bright, nearly crimson, pink with the emerald dewed grass imprinted a picture of pride to his conscious. _

_The owner of the meretricious flower disappeared from the entrance of the cemetery in a swirl of silver as dull thuds echoed against the pavement and for a moment, he wondered if he saw an angel. _

**Author's Notes: I am so sorry for the late update and it this chapter would have been released earlier if not for a little evil thing called high school. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this extra long chapter and please tell me what you think.**

**Razzbaries is an actually bakery located in California that is, according to reviews, famous for their good cinnamon rolls and hot chocolate. **


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